


The Things Left Behind

by captainangua



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angel Castiel, BAMF Mary Winchester, College Student Dean, Demon Blood, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Enemies to Lovers, F/F, Friends to Lovers, Human Castiel, Hunter Dean Winchester, Kid Hannah, Kid Sam Winchester, Legal Guardian Dean, M/M, Mary Winchester Lives, Non-Hunter Winchesters, Parent Castiel, Slow Burn, Vessels, Witch Sam
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-03-13
Updated: 2017-02-05
Packaged: 2018-03-17 17:30:12
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 40,719
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3538001
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/captainangua/pseuds/captainangua
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Dean drops out of college to look after Sam after his Mom disappears on a hunt his new life pretty much started spiralling from there. His Mom’s girlfriend doesn’t want to see him hunting, but she doesn’t want him looking after a seven year old either – and neither does Sam’s school.</p><p>Then just when he thinks he can’t stand waiting any longer on news, things at home start looking up in the form of Castiel, who also doesn’t seem to know much about what he’s doing on the parenting front.</p><p>Actually, the dork really doesn’t seem to know what he’s doing on the human front at all...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Birthday Party

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A pair of piercing blue eyes stared back at him as the man they belonged to took a shuddering breath. He was covered in dirt from head to toe, and his face was scratched and bleeding; the arm of his coat torn like he’d just fallen down backwards through a tree.

It was the biggest cake Sam had ever seen, never mind had for himself. Usually his Mom would make up a small one for just him and Dean and her to share, but this year she wasn’t here to do that and Dean had to get the baking done instead. It was like because he knew that Sam was sad about her not being there he was doing everything he could to make up for it, and so this year his cake was practically a _tower_ , kinda like a wedding cake, with iced cars riding around the sides of it, and a big number seven on the top.

He knew that the reason Dean had made so much was to cover for all the parts of it that had come out burnt or crumbling – Dean did that, Sam had noticed, if he did one thing wrong he’d try making it all better by covering it all up in more and more stupid ways. But it didn’t matter because Sam was the only one who’d been there to see that, and he wasn’t saying anything, he thought, as he attempted one last bite of his slice of cake. He was good at keeping secrets for his brother, like the fact that Uncle Bobby wasn’t meant to know that sometimes Dean went driving off some nights in his car going to go catch monsters, or that time Sam had seen him kissing another guy, because Dean said he wasn’t ready for other people to know about that just yet.

Maybe if Dean saw how good he was at keeping secrets, maybe one day he’d tell him where he thought their Mom had gone, and not have to put on his lying face to tell it. Lying was bad, his Mom had always said that. Secrets could be ok though, so long as you shared them with someone. It hurt, Dean not sharing everything.

“You finished with that?”

Sam pouted at the cake on his plate, which seemed to have so far defeated him, and eventually nodded, letting Jake take the paper plate away from him. Jake was cool, and he always let Sam share his pencil sharpener in class, so it only seemed fair.

Dean had let Sam invite his whole class, and his whole soccer team. Sam hadn’t even been sure they’d be able to fit that many people in their house, but apparently you could, and with room for the grown-ups picking them up. Dean wasn’t sure if he counted as a grown-up, Sam could tell, since he seemed to be avoiding them all, and staying in the kitchen though Sam knew he’s finished all the cooking hours before anyone arrived. Deciding that Dean might be washing up and needing some help with that, Sam went in to find him.

“Need a hand?” Sam asked as he walked in.

His brother started out of his daydreaming out the window and turned around to eventually smile at him. “Nah I’m… I’m good, kiddo.”

“You sure? You seem kinda freaked out.”

“Freaked out? What are you on about?” Dean muttered as he walked past Sam and ruffled up his hair. “Anyway your Aunt Ellen’ll be around soon to help out. She’ll help me out with all the… this,” he said, gesturing to the growing mound of used plastic cups. “You just get outside and enjoy the sun, alright?”

“Yeah, ok,” Sam said eventually. “I just…” _I don’t want you to be lonely in here. I want to see you having fun again like you used to._

_*_

“What?”

The kid just kept on staring at his feet. Christ, it was his birthday, it was sunny, all his friends were here, and still he looked like a kicked puppy. What had Dean done wrong this time?

There was a knock on the kitchen door and one of the little girls from Sammy’s class walked in. She had a very serious expression on her face, almost as though she wasn’t sure that she approved of the room she was walking into. Cute kid though, all big blue eyes that didn’t look away.

“Hello,” she said. “Would it be acceptable to ask for some water? There isn’t any left on the picnic table.”

“Uh… sure, sure,” Dean managed eventually as he picked up one of the plastic cups that hadn’t been used yet wondering what the hell kind of family managed to raise a kid like this. _Would it be acceptable._ Huh.

“Sure it’s water you want sweetheart? We got some other juices in here, some milk in the fridge…” he suggested as Sammy’s eyes widened, his head shaking slightly, while Dean poured the kid some water.

The girl’s eyes narrowed. “Don’t patronise me, please.”

 _Patronise?_ “Sure, sure… Sorry about that, here’s your water.”

Her little hand grasped the cup tightly. “Thank you,” she told him, solemnly, and left.

“That’s Hannah,” Sam said after she’d gone, like that was some sort of explanation. She’s kinda weird. The teacher doesn’t like her very much. He says she’s smarter than she ought to be.”

“Well I’m not sure I’d say that, but she’s more than a little bit of a stepford kid, you know?”

“She’s nice though,” Sam put in hurriedly. He was always seemed to feel the need to rush to everyone’s defense. “Sometimes,” he amended, when Dean raised an eyebrow at him.

“Uh-huh. Well at least the rest of your pals seem to be having fun out there. Why don’t you go out and join ‘em?”

There was that hesitating look back on the kid’s face. “Go on, get out there already. Sooner you finish playing with your friends, the sooner they can all leave and the sooner I can give you your birthday present, alright?”

Sam’s face lit up like a little fucking Christmas tree. “Is it a dog?”

Dean groaned loudly. “I told you already, we’re not getting a dog. Not right now, Sammy, you know that.”

“But what if…”

“No dogs!”

“What about when Mom comes back? Can we have a dog then?”

Dean tried his best to hold in the long sigh he felt that deserved. “Uh. Maybe. Sure. Whenever she gets back, you ask her about it alright?”

“You’re the best, Dean,” Sam declared, clutching at Dean’s waist tightly before finally running off.

“The best,” Dean repeated. If that were true, he’d stop being such a fucking coward and tell his brother the truth: that it looked like their Mom wasn’t ever coming home. And that if it wasn’t for there being Sam to look after, and her determination that neither of them would ever follow her into the hunting lifestyle, he’d be out there looking for her now instead of failing at baking cakes and being useless… Dean’s hands tightened their grip around the kitchen sink. He wasn’t going to do this to himself. He wasn’t going to do this to Sammy. He was going to finish this damn washing up and then he was going to go out and _mingle_ , so that the parents of Sam’s friends didn’t end up deciding that they couldn’t let their kids go home with him to play because his older brother was a weird-ass hermit. Right.

“Doing alright there, Winchester?”

Dean turned around. “Ellen,” he said, with some relief.

“Come here, boy,” she told him, arms wide open. Grinning, he obliged her and practically fell into her. “How’s the host holding up in here?”

“Well, so far no one’s dead. And I don’t think anyone’s a monster, as of yet.”

“Turning out an even better hunter than your Mom, being able to tell all that from hiding in here.”

“I’m not hiding, Ellen…”

“If you’re going back to college this week you can’t just keep staring out of windows all day, you need to get your ass in gear if you want to graduate with anything.”

Dean backed away, forcing a smile. “Already told you, Ellen. Not going back. Sammy needs me here, and besides, Bobby promised me a job in the shop.”

“That man,” she growled through gritted teeth. “After I _told_ him…”

“Told him what?”

“Never you mind. And yeah, Sam needs you around. But he doesn’t need you around all the time, not when we’d be just as happy having him stay with us. God knows I love the hell outta that kid...”

“Well, no offence, Ellen, but he likes it better here. This is home,” Dean said firmly, begging her mentally to drop the subject already as he picked up his dishcloth again.

“Well I promised your Mother I’d see you got through college if anything happened to her!”

Dean shrugged and leant back against the counter. “And she promised she’d be home in a few days. Look how that turned out.” At the look on her face he instantly regretted his words. His Mom had meant the world to Ellen, he knew that better than anyone. And Ellen had already lost a husband to the life, she hadn’t even been able to admit yet that she might have just lost her lover and best friend a decade later. “Look, Ellen… If I didn’t have Sammy to look after I…” He cleared his throat. “I uh, I’m not sure I’d be able to stay here not knowing if she was alright or not. I couldn’t bear that.”

“And you think I can?”

Dean had no answer to that.

*

Ellen left around the same time all the parents started bringing their kids home, and bit by agonising bit, the house emptied, and Dean was left alone with his brother again. Well, almost alone.

“Did your Mom and Dad know about when they were supposed to come and pick you up, Hannah?”

The little girl nodded certainly and continued to stare out the front window. “He’ll be here,” she stated again, though she started chewing at her lip again in worry. Poor kid, Dean thought to himself as looked up at the clock again.

“You uh, you want something to eat while you wait?” he tried, hoping to prise her away from the stance she’d been keeping. She smiled at him for the first time, and shyly thanked him, but told him firmly that she wasn’t hungry.

“Well there’s still loads of cake and stuff left if you change your mind, Hannah,” Sam piped up.

“Oh… good,” she said, nodding absently.

Dean sat down beside her again. “You know… if you know their numbers, we could try giving one of them a call if you like…”

“It’s just my… Father,” she said eventually, as though she wasn’t quite sure. “And he should be here shortly.”

“And I’m sure he will be. But uh, do you have his number?”

She looked flustered for a moment before composing herself again.  “I’m a seven year old. No, I don’t know my father’s cell phone number.”

 _Weirdest fucking seven year old I’ve ever met,_ Dean thought, but he nodded patiently. “Ok.” He stood up again. Goddammit, why did he even think he was capable of putting on a kids’ party like this? Maybe Ellen was right, he should be back in college. In some ways it was a relief to let even that burden of responsibility down, of having to make it through finals.

It was 9pm, four hours after Ellen had headed home, that there was a knock on the door. “At fucking last,” Dean muttered under his breath as he went to open it. The kids were getting sleepy, he’d been letting them run their way through almost entire S _tar Trek_ box-set all evening, and Hannah’s persistent questions about the show were making him just as tired, even if it was kinda cute having found something that was childlike about her.

He opened the door fully ready with the face he used on Sam to get him to stop mucking around and go to bed already, but his mouth quickly dropped into an ‘O’ shape instead. “Holy shit,” he mumbled. “Are you ok?”

A pair of piercing blue eyes stared back at him as the man they belonged to took a shuddering breath. He was covered in dirt from head to toe, and his face was scratched and bleeding, the arm of his coat was torn like he’d just fallen down through a tree.

“I’m fine. Hannah. Is she still here?” The look he was giving Dean was almost pleading, as though he was terrified he was about to say that she was gone already.

“Sure she’s, uh, she’s inside. She was worried about what was taking you, man.”

“My apologies,” the man said as he started to limp through the doorway. Dean rushed to his side to help balance him.

“Look we’ve uh, we’ve got a first aid kit in the kitchen if you’d like, or I could let you take a shower while you’re here…”

“Thank you, but that shouldn’t be necessary.”

“What so you’re just gonna John McClane your way home, all beat-up and bloody with your poor kid in tow? What the hell happened to you anyway?” Dean asked as he laid the guy down on their sofa, trying to keep the edge of irritation out of his voice. He’d kinda had about as much as he could take lately of parents not putting their own kids first.

Hannah and Sam were there at his legs in seconds, crowding around him.

“Castiel,” Hannah said, voice wavering. “What-”

“I’m fine, Hannah,” ‘Castiel’ assured her firmly.

“Do you want any cake? We have lots left,” Sam piped up.

The man on the couch looked at him steadily, but with a strange curiousity, like he’d never heard a real kid talk before. “Uh…” He wanted to say no, like he had for the first aid kit, but he seemed to find it more difficult to know what to say to Sam.

So Dean chose for him. “I’ll bring you through some cake, and I’ll get you a damn washcloth for those cuts too, you don’t want ‘em going sceptic or something.”

“Thank you,” Dean heard, as he left the room. If the voice hadn’t sounded so much like defeat he might have said something funny, something flirty in response. But it just didn’t feel like the moment, for once. Maybe he was just too tired.

*

“I want the truth, Castiel.”

“I’ve already told you everything,” Castiel pointed out to the little figure in the passenger seat next to him.

“No, I mean,” Hannah hesitated, and for a moment he felt his eyes fool him into believing that she was truly the child she appeared, “what does it feel like? Your wounds…”

Castiel’s thoughts immediately went to the young man who’d been washing and dressing them for him, almost of their own strange accord. What did it feel like? Soft, and yet somehow electric, having those hands gently tend to his bare skin…

“I’ve not yet felt greater pain than a grazed knee. I can’t imagine what it feels like.”

The pain, of course. “Unpleasant, I think is the only word. But the pain is fading now. Except…”

“What?”

“My chest,” Castiel admitted eventually. “I had to carve a banishing signal into it. I wouldn’t have stood a chance without it.”

Hannah placed a small hand on his knee. “That was too close. We should move again. I hate feeling this vulnerable. The sooner we can get our wings back, be ourselves again…”

“Didn’t you enjoy your party?”

She narrowed her eyes at him. “Well, thanks to you I ended up looking a friendless orphan.”

“I take it that’s not something that’s uh, ‘cool’ among your fellows.”

A smile started tugging at Hannah’s lip. “Are you implying that I’m becoming too close to the humanity I’ve been reduced to, Castiel? You?”

Castiel snorted quietly and smiled to himself. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

*


	2. Parent's Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “And hey, I don’t know if I ever said, but the name’s Dean,” Dean said, offering out a hand.
> 
> “Dean,” the guy repeated, shaking his hand after slight hesitation. “My name’s Castiel.”

Castiel hadn’t given much thought yet to what the practicalities of appearing as a socially acceptable parent might entail, but they seemed only to increase the less he thought on them.

“So what exactly does this… meeting entail?”

Hannah sighed heavily again in exasperation, though Castiel noticed the earnest look in her eye. On some level, this was important to her. “It’s in essence a progress report from the ones intending to safeguard my, admittedly incredibly limiting, education, passed on to those who care for me at home. A conversation discussing whether or not they believe I am growing to be a societal asset.”

“Ah. I see,” Castiel told her, nodding, though not feeling sure that he did see. The entire concept seemed absurd. Surely as someone who was supposed to be caring and looking after this child most of their hours in the day he should be able to know better than anyone how she was growing, progressing. But then humans seemed to crave confirmation of what they already knew. The pleasant ones were rarely inclined to trust solely in their own judgement.

“And attendance for this is… mandatory?”

“Yes, the repercussions from failing to attend may end in us drawing undue attention to ourselves. It’s a fifteen minute interview, Castiel,” she finished, voice softening. “I’ve booked you in for a slot at seven, but you’ll be expected at the school some time before that.”

Cas tried to smile. “I can do that. Now, before I leave, would you like to try watching some more of these cartoons with me?”

“I think I’m going to bed, actually. I forget how quickly this small vessel becomes tired. It’s so fragile.”

She was in a thinking mood though, Castiel was able to tell. They’d spent many months together like this, now, and he understood her voice patterns much easier now. “Inias is due to contact us within the next few day with an update. We should know soon how much longer things will have to remain in this way.”

“I know,” Hannah said quietly as she started walking away. So perhaps their situation wasn’t the direct reason for her mood.

Castiel cleared his throat, hesitatingly. “How… how did your spelling assessment go today, Hannah?”

She stopped walking. “Atrociously. Sam Winchester bested me by a mark. I am better than this, Castiel.”

It was very difficult for Castiel’s face not to break into a grin at the despair in her voice.

“The boy whose party you attended last week?”

“Yes. A pleasant child, though from a strange home. But a home which conveys excellent cake.”

“I remember,” Castiel said, now smiling, remembering also the man who’d given it to him. Or, more forced it on him.

He’d had green eyes, Castiel remembered that very clearly, though he could not remember why the fact held such significance in his mind.

*

“I still think the tie makes me look stupid.”

“No, it looks smart, and parent-y,” Sam corrected his brother from his perch knelt on their couch, fixing Dean’s tie. “And Aunt Ellen said that if you go and don’t look parent-y, they might call social, and that if you _don’t_ go then you won’t look parent-y and they’ll call social anyways. So you gotta look smart.”

“No pressure then. Thanks, man.”

“No problem. Just don’t mess up and you’ll be great,” Sam stated, patting Dean once on the chest in finalised approval before flopping back down onto the couch. Dean stepped away and looked at himself in the mirror. He looked like an untidy Blue’s Brother.

“Don’t you worry about me messing up here, it’s your ass out there one the line if they tell me you suck.”

“They won’t.”

“And how’d you know that?”

Sam sighed and continued to stare up at the ceiling. “Because  Mr Henrickson told me I was a _prodigy_ the other day, and I’m pretty sure that’s a good thing.”

“Prodigy, huh? You sure he was talking about the right kid? Ow!” he exclaimed as he felt Sam kick into his back. Man, the kid had taken their Mom’s defence lessons to heart. Much as she’d never wanted either of them to have to grow up hunters, after their Dad’s death, she’d seen the need to make sure her sons weren’t out in the world blind, or helpless.

Yeah, she’d been awesome on passing her how-to knowledge of demon-wasting, but not so hot on how to manage a mortgage, or how to find all the hours in the day to work, cook, clean, making sure Sammy had everything he needed, and still finding the time to hunt on the side. No, that was the sort of thing she’d apparently thought she’d always be back in time to handle.

Dean rolled up into the school car park early, so of course the teacher was running late on his interviews. Dean was told to wait on the teacher on one of the plastic chairs made for kids outside Sammy’s classroom. Five minutes later the seat next to him was also filled.

“Hello,” the man said to him as he sat down, the depth of his voice jolting Dean’s memory.

“Hey… didn’t recognise you without all that blood and shit on your face for a minute there. How’re you holding up?”

“Uh… fine. You mean with my injuries?”

“Yeah, not that they seemed to have held you back much you look great now – I mean you seem fine.” Dean blushed furiously at the mistake – because hell, the guy did look great. It was mostly to do with the hair, Dean figured. All tousled, and making him look permanently mussed up, like he’d let someone spend all day letting someone else run their hand through it.

“Is it customary for these meetings to take more time than expected?”

“I dunno, man. It’s kinda my first rodeo in this,” Dean told him, trying not to think about what Sam had said about them calling social. “Why, you never been to one of these before?”

“Uh… that was never my role before.”

“Right. Hannah’s Mom was in charge of that, huh? My parents did the same when I was growing up. My Dad never could be bothered with these things.”

The guy nodded. It was bugging Dean badly that he couldn’t remember his name, only that it had sounded kinda odd. A bit like the guy it belonged to. “So uh, are you guys like, divorced or something now?”

As the guy’s face froze, Dean gulped, feeling his throat drop to his stomach. That would be one of those _invasive questions,_ as his Mom would’ve labelled it that he’d always been warned against asking.

“No, she uh, she died, recently. That’s actually why we’ve moved here. It seemed good for both of us to get some kind of fresh start.”

So a)likely straight, and b)likely still grieving - and probably now thought Dean was an insensitive jerk. Which he kinda was. Awesome.

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright,” the guy told him, trying to smile. “It’s been an interesting… adjustment period, but I think we’re both doing much better now. I’m just still getting used to things like this,” he finished lamely, eyes rolling around the ceiling like a caged animal.

“Well, that makes two of us.”

The guy narrowed his eyes at Dean in interest. “So your first… ‘rodeo’ in this then?”

“Yeah… this would so not have been my gig any other year,” Dean laughed drily. “But now I’m Sammy’s ‘guardian’ or whatever there’s all these things that keep cropping up I’d never even thought about before that I need to deal with now that my Mom’s gone.”

“I know what you mean,” the guy said, nodding. “If… if you don’t mind me asking, what is it that happened to your mother?”

Dean snorted. “Tell you what, soon as I know, you’ll be on my list of people to call, alright?” This seemed to please the guy as much as it confused him. “She uh… she never got back from work one day a few months ago. So I put college on hold and here I am.”

“You would sacrifice a lot for your family.” It wasn’t a question.

“I guess. But then that’s family, right?”

The other guy smiled and looked at his feet. Which was really just maddeningly adorable.

“And hey, I don’t know if I ever said, but the name’s Dean,” Dean said, offering out a hand.

“Dean,” the guy repeated, shaking his hand after slight hesitation. “My name’s Castiel.”

Dean mentally kicked himself, but not too hard. He’d known it was weird, but he coulda been there all day trying to wrack his brains to remember a name like that. It was just begging to be shortened somehow.

“Gotta last name there, Cas?”

The guy started a little at the nickname, like he’d never received one before. “Yes, it’s Smith.”

It was like his parents had thought, we’re giving him the blandest surname possible, let’s spice things up a little.

“Sam Winchester?” Called the head popping out of the doorway in front of them. Dean stood up, feeling beyond weird having to answer to his little brother’s name.

“Guess that’s me up then,” he muttered.

“Good luck,” Cas told him quietly as Dean walked in. The classroom had a friendly kinda vibe to it, which was encouraging. The walls were colourful, and covered in kids’ drawings. Lecture halls just weren’t anywhere near as fun to look at.

“So you’re Sam’s brother, is that right?”

“Yeah, that’s right, Dean,” Dean said, sticking out his hand for the second time that evening. Again, it was met with some hesitation before the other took it.

“Please take a seat, Dean.”

Dean squatted awkwardly down into one of the two smaller chairs left in front of the guy’s desk. “Cool, so uh… Sammy’s doing good so far this year, right?”

“That’s right,” Henrickson agreed with him easily, giving a brisk smile. “Sam’s a smart kid, with a reading level easily double his age. He has a real head for numbers too – first kid in the class to get all his times tables down pat. He’s a pleasure to have around in the class as well, he’s a very sociable child, and seems highly empathetic.”

“I’m uh… I’m kinda sensing a ‘but’ here.”

Henrickson sighed, and Dean felt kinda like he was the one back in school. “But I’ll admit, I am worried about him.”

Dean tried for an uneasy smile. “But if his coursework and ‘social skills’ are so great then…”

“I don’t think the last months have been easy for him at all, Mr Winchester, as I’m sure you’ve been aware. Although he still enjoys interacting with the rest of the class, he seems more withdrawn in his class, and much of his creative output lately has been, well, darker in material. If he’s not drawing antlered monsters for the wall, he’s writing compositions about demons from hell.”

“Yeah well, he’s a boy, y’know? I know I loved all that horror story crap when I was his age, and ok, we’ve maybe let him watch a few too many movies that are higher ratings than the age group things say, but-”

“The content in itself doesn’t bother me, Mr Winchester,” Henrickson said, cutting him off smoothly. “It’s the fact that he seems so fixated on it now, when he’s seemed much less likely to speak up in class. Since these are recent changes in Sam’s behaviour I can’t help wondering if the lack of permanency in his life right now since his mother’s disappearance has anything to do with this.”

 _Lack of permanency?_ Who did this guy think he was – the new Dr Phil?

“Look, Sammy’s missing her, sure – and he’s worried about it – of course he’s worried about it. _I’d_ be worried if he wasn’t!” It was becoming a struggle to keep his voice from raising.

“I understand that, Mr Winchester, but you have to understand that it becomes _my problem_ when Sam no longer acts according to his ordinary standard of behaviour. I mean, the incident with Ava Wilson last week?”

Well that sounded like nothing positive. “…Incident?”

“I actually sent you out a letter concerning it – you didn’t receive that?”

“No, no I didn’t.” _Sam you little shit what the hell did you do?_

Henrickson sighed again. There was another dude with a great voice for the long sighs, but in this context it was less sexy-affecting and more plain aggravating. “Sam’s always been very empathetic like I say, and he enjoys helping people. Ava is… less likely to try and help her classmates, to be frank. I believe that what happened was that Sam was trying to protect Andy from something Ava was saying, or doing…”

“So he was standing up to a bully, right on.”

Apparently that wasn’t the right response. “Mr Winchester, Ava is a six-year old girl. Yes, I believe she was outta line with how she was treating Andy at that point, but Sam’s reaction to seeing that should have been to come and get me, not to attack her.”

“So when you say attack…”

“Both yourself and Sam, and the school, were very lucky that her parents made no attempt to turn this into some kind of witch-hunt after your brother. He knows how to perform well in a fight, for a skinny seven year old who, to my knowledge, doesn’t exactly come from the rough end of town.”

“Like I say he’s uh… he’s seen a lot of movies…”

*

Castiel was surprised at what the waiting had done to him: by the time he’d watched Dean unhappily march out of the classroom he was genuinely nervous as to what he’d be faced with inside. He was almost suspicious to find that there seemed to be nothing wrong with the teacher he was meeting, other than a palpable weariness.

“Hello, Mr Smith, I’m very sorry this has taken me so long. Not every kid is easy to talk about, nor every parent easy to deal with, I’m afraid.”

Judging by his exit, Castiel was guessing that Dean hadn’t been one of those who Henrickson had found ‘easy to deal with’. “I’m sorry to hear that,” he said, a response he’d found useful as a stock phrase. Along with explaining that Hannah’s ‘mother’ was dead. Humans generally seemed automatically uncomfortable at the mention of death or grieving – strange, for a subject that was such a constant for them.

Not that Dean had, however. There was something very direct about him that Castiel found… interesting.

“Yeah, well Hannah’s not exactly one of my ‘problem kids’. She usually keeps pretty steadily in the region of the top of the class, and she’s often a very sweet kid, especially towards the others.”

“Oh. Good,” Castiel stated, resisting the urge to add a question in his tone.

“Yeah. Problem is, I’m not sure she has any friends.”

“Oh.” That would be considered a serious flaw in her development, Castiel was sure of it. Humans seemed to place an extremely high value on bonds of friendship, ranking only marginally below familial or romantic relationships. Since school would be the first opportunity many of these children would have had to form their own, the failure to do so would be regarded as significant.

“Yeah. It’s funny, she mostly seems to get on well enough with the rest of the class, but I never really see her chatting with anyone, and she never seems interested in taking part in any of their games. She’s an only child, isn’t she?”

“Yes. Could that be a reason she finds forming relationships more difficult?”

“Well I guess it might have been easier if she’d had other kids to play with growing up, maybe then she’d know _how_ to play…”

Castiel sighed, hoping his despair sounded genuine. “I think her mother’s death may have a lot to do with Hannah’s behaviour. I know she’s still finding it difficult…”

Henrickson took a quick breath in. “Oh, I’m so sorry…”

Castiel waved a hand dismissively. “We’re both doing fine now. And I’m glad she’s got a teacher who’s looking out for her welfare so well…”

Castiel walked out of the interview feeling like he was getting a lot better at this deception business. It was getting much easier, to look at someone and spout falsehoods to their face- he was getting more creative too… Now if he could only get Hannah to play along with her role a little better…

As he walked out of the doors to the school building, he heard a familiar voice. Dean apparently also hadn’t made it home yet, he was talking on the phone, saying something about being upset that he hadn’t been told something. Well, he didn’t actually use the word upset, but Castiel could tell. He was getting much better in understanding what humans did or didn’t mean.

“…I’m not _mad_ Sammy, alright? I just… Right. _Sure._ WellI’ll be home in a bit, you can tell me then. Ok.” Dean hung up the phone and leant back against the wall to stare up at the stars. It felt suddenly as though Castiel was interrupting a private moment, and felt it would only be fair to announce his presence in some way.

As he cleared his throat, Dean’s head turned in obvious alarm, before his face softened. “Oh, hey. So how’d your first Parent’s night go?”

Castiel let himself smile slightly. “It wasn’t entirely pleasant, but there were no unwelcome surprises.”

Dean’s eyes rolled, briefly. “Huh. Well I wish I could say the same.” He stared intently at the grass for a moment, before turning back to Castiel.

“Hey, you wanna go get a drink or something? I could really use one tonight…”

Castiel opened his mouth to tell Dean he wouldn’t be available for a drink or anything else, but Dean just looked so defeated and worn out and _hopeful_ in a manner that was strangely affecting. And hadn’t he just been told that neither he nor Hannah had been doing a good enough job of fitting in, of making friends?

“Where did you have in mind?” Castiel asked, having to firmly remind himself at Dean’s smile that this was a sensible tactical move.

*

“…It’s like, you’re saying he’s having a hard time adjusting to the whole deal with Mom, you think he’s gonna adjust _better_ somehow if he has to move out of his house and lose me too?” Dean asked, finishing his second beer in a gulp. On the bar stool next to him, Cas nodded, and Dean wanted to strangle himself. He’d got the mysterious grieving hot dude out drinking with him and all he’d been able to talk about so far was Sam.

“And uh… I’m now gonna get us another round and stop talking about my bullshit list of problems.”

Cas smiled, and dammit if every little twitch of his mouth didn’t feel like some kind of gift. “It’s alright. It doesn’t sound like you always have a lot of people to, uh, vent to.”

Dean snorted. “You kidding me? I have this extended group of family friends who all want to act like a support group for me. Goddamn smothering most days. But yeah, I guess I don’t always like talking to them because I know exactly how they’ll react. But then again, that’s family.”

“What about you,” Dean started after a pause. “You left a lotta family behind?”

Cas nodded slowly. “Yes, a large one. But none of us were ever terribly close.”

“Right. So I guess you didn’t exactly call any of ‘em for help the other night?”

Cas put his head to one side. “What do you mean?”

“I mean whenever you got all banged up the other night – that wasn’t worth a phone call home to anyone?”

Cas shook his head. “Oh, that. No, I doubt it would have interested anyone. Most of them aren’t terribly fond of me, I doubt they’d find the story of me getting mugged terribly concerning.”

Dean’s eyes widened. “You got _mugged?_ In this town?”

“I was surprised too.”

“How many of them were there? Did they take any important?”

“Oh no,” Cas told him taking another sip of his beer. “There were three of them, but I fought them off.”

“Jeez,” Dean breathed out in open admiration. He’d been training hard for years but he wasn’t sure he’d trust himself to manage that. “Were they carrying?”

Cas paused for a moment as though trying to understand the term, then said, “no. Only knives.” There was something odd about the way he was smiling to himself now, like the knife thing was some kind of private joke.

“Still. It’s pretty awesome you got outta that alright. I totally forgive you now for being late picking Hannah up – not that she’s difficult to have around or anything,” he amended hurriedly. “She’s a sweet kid. I’m sure Sammy’d love having her round again.”

“Mmm. Dean, the teacher said he was worried about her in terms of how she interacts with the rest of the class. Did you find that noticeable at all?”

Dean gulped slowly. This could be a fine line to walk. “Uh. Well like I say she’s a sweet kid, but that vocabulary of hers probably intimidates the others, y’know? And I dunno, she was happy enough watching TV with Sam after the others had gone but I’m not sure she was all that interested in joining in much with the big group.”

Cas nodded along, as though mentally taking notes.

“But yeah, like I say, if there’s ever a day you want to leave her at ours, feel free, I’m sure Sam would love to see her,” Dean said, wincing at what might be a lie that Sam wouldn’t thank him for.

Just as Cas was opening his mouth to say something, Dean felt the phone in his pocket start buzzing. “I’m sorry, I should get this…”

“Of course.”

_“Dean?”_

“Hey, Jo. What’s up? I’m kinda busy right now…”

_“Well, you’ll be wanting to cancel those plans. Ash thinks he’s found something.”_

Dean suppressed a sigh as he felt his heart begin to pound anyway. It would end up being nothing, like every other damn time, but it just wasn’t in him not to check. “Ok, I’ll be right over.” As he hung up on her, Dean looked over apologetically at Cas. “You remember that family group I told you about? Well, as well as nagging me, they can hardly get a thing done without me… But we’ll get that third drink another time alright?”

“Of course,” Cas assured, his small smile looking a little less bright this time. When Dean left the bar, he was still sitting there in his coat, staring at the beer in his hand. Great as the guy was, it wasn’t difficult to see where his kid got her loner vibe from.

Only, with Cas, Dean felt sure that it was less a matter of choice, and more an issue of not really knowing how to connect in the first place.

*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much to everyone who's been commenting so far, it always helps get me writing quicker :) as it is, I' hoping to post something at least once a week for this...


	3. Play Date

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You feel it’s necessary to bring a gun to a playground?”

It often made Dean wonder whenever he hung around with Jo, or especially whenever he was going on hunts with her, if Ellen really got the irony in her telling him that his Mom wouldn’t want him hunting. She wouldn’t, obviously, but Ellen didn’t like Jo doing it either, and at only nineteen she was barely even ever home, much preferring to be driving off to wherever Ash or someone else let her know there was something evil and weirder out there that needed wasting. And she was good at it too, not that Dean ever told her that, much. Ellen might see that as encouragement, and she wouldn’t hesitate to tear him a new one if she heard any of that from him.

Not that she ever really seemed to mind about Ash’s part in Jo’s lifestyle choices. His presence in Ellen’s basement had been something no one had ever seemed to question. Come to think of it, Dean didn’t think anyone had ever actually said a reason _why_ he lived there – for all he knew Ash was actually Jo’s friendly werewolf cousin who’d turned up to stay a night, tried some of Ellen’s burgers, and never left. But since Ash was a vegetarian who didn’t seem all that secretive, Dean just took him as he seemed – a handy tech guy to have around on site and not a bad kisser.

“So,” Dean asked as he thudded his way down the stairs. “You guys think you got something?”

“We’re actually pretty sure about this one, Dean-O,” Ash corrected him as he walked in to stand behind where they sat in front of Ash’s interconnected little system of laptops. Sammy’s eyes had gone wide with envy when he’d first seen it. Sammy… He was going to need put to bed at some point…

“Oh yeah? So what, a sighting?”

“Better – an account from a reliable source.”

“I don’t know if I’d stretch to reliable,” Jo said uneasily. “Garth’s the one who told us about this.”

Dean’s eyebrows rose to what felt like way up into his hairline. “Wait, we’re taking tip-off’s now from Mr Tooth Fairy Killer?”

Ash shrugged. “I hear that was a nasty gig, actually, lots of claws, y’know?”

Dean rolled his eyes and then his entire head around. This was not going to end up helping his Mom. _And_ he’d had to skip out on the first date he’d had in months for it.

Well. Not that Cas had probably been _aware_ that it had been a date, but whatever.

“Great,” Dean muttered, rubbing at his temples.

“You should hear this though, Dean,” Jo told him firmly, laying a calming hand on his arm. “Garth’s not exactly the most sound guy to talk to that ever was, but he is a good hunter. And this is interesting.”

Dean threw up his hands. “Alright. So tell me what he found.”

Ash spun round on his chair with a grin. “Angels.”

“Angels? Ok, I think that’s worse than the tooth fairy…”

“Seriously Dean,” Jo said, “this matches up with a lot of what Bobby’s been hearing from hunters and demons about a heavenly war and the end of the world.”

“Which sounds like a whole pile of way above our paygrade. If these things exist in the first place which I ain’t buying yet.”

“Your Mom wouldn’t see it that way,” Ash cut in. Dean glared at him. “Ok, so let me tell you what Garth found. He’s found a girl who was on the run from both demons and a mental hospital, who claims she can hear angels. Both her parents have been killed. And she’s saying that among the things she’s been hearing, a lot of which confirms the whole angel war theory Bobby’s been ranting about lately, she heard you Mom’s name come up, as someone who’d successfully been taken. Dean, she’d never even heard of your Mom before -there’s no way she’s making this up.”

“Oh, there’s always a way,” Dean reminded her, scathingly, “but get Garth to bring her down here we can have a talk with her anyway. Although if she’s just got outta the loony bin…”

“Garth tells us she’s entirely sane.”

“Well Garth ain’t exactly sitting with a full barrel of monkeys himself, so.” Dean rubbed his hand back through his hair as he lent against Ash’s desk. There’d been too many false alarms, even this month alone, and he was starting to wonder how many more he could take before he either gave up the search entirely, or else left Sammy with Ellen and gave up the grip he had on his life here to go off and physically track her down himself.

Jo continued pacing, one hand lodged on her hip. “Garth said he’d take her along to Bobby’s place anyway. Nothing’s getting to her down in that panic room.”

“And I guess she ain’t getting out so easy either, right. So angel war? They going around stabbing at each other with harps and halos over who gets to sing the choir solo?”

“Not exactly, from the accounts we’ve been getting,” Ash told him with a smile. “Anna’s story is interesting especially because it implies things have gone… almost underground for the moment. The reason for the uprising was the appearance of this like almost messianic rock star leader who they think God mighta resurrected. Now they can’t find him, so the fighting’s stopped… for the moment.”

“So war for them, is that meaning war for us?”

“Nah, but it might mean the end of the world or something depending on the winner.”

Dean rolled his eyes and gripped the edge of the desk tightly. “So what do they want with my Mom then?”

Jo gave him that look he’d seen her usually keep in reserve only for small animals in pain. “Garth didn’t say on the phone whether or not she knew. But he should’ve made it to Bobby’s by tomorrow night.”

Dean breathed out slowly. Tomorrow night. He could wait that long.

*

Castiel found himself almost swaying as he made his way up the steps to the apartment he shared with Hannah. It was strange. He was aware mentally that he was still able to function at a high enough level to think quickly, and yet getting himself to move in a straight line had become… difficult, since leaving the bar. So that was alcohol. Castiel was still trying to decide whether or not he liked it. Dean certainly seemed to.

Dean, who’d shortened his name, familiarly, only moments after being properly introduced to him. He was certainly an interesting young man.

Hannah was sitting perched at the breakfast bar in their kitchen when Castiel entered the apartment.

“Where have you been?” she asked immediately.

“Well…”

“I’ve been alone for hours now, Castiel.”

“I’m sorry,” Castiel ventured, as he walked towards her. “I went out with one of the parents after the meeting. To socialise, Hannah, apparently we need to do better at that.”

She looked up at him with something close to horror. “My progress was not deemed sufficient?”

“It was, very much so, only the teacher believed your social skills were lacking, and expressed some worry for you.” Castiel narrowed his eyes – Hannah did not seem with his answer, though it had been honest, and reasonably thorough. “Are you… alright?”

With shock, Castiel watched as his friend’s vessel – his friend – burst into tears in front of him. “I… I’m sorry,” she eventually managed to splutter. “It’s this body – I don’t – I can’t…”

Her sounds of frustration moved Castiel in unfamiliar ways, and, almost on automatic he lifted out his arms awkwardly, offering comfort, and she quickly fell into them.

“I just – I didn’t like being alone for so long. And I was… I was nervous about what Mr Henrickson thought of me. I don’t know why I was craving that validation, but-”

“It’s… It’s alright. You’re right – these bodies, they want, need, even, things that it’s difficult for us to comprehend,” Castiel offered as he patted a hand on her head, lightly.

“But before… we knew everything, then.”

“I’m wondering if maybe we only thought we did. There are so many things we need that we never have before… companionship, even.”

Hannah wiped her eyes resolutely. “Well. So long as this ordeal does not have to continue all that much longer, and I have regular contact with you I’m sure I’ll continue to be alright.”

“I’m sure,” Castiel repeated after her. “But we can’t be certain yet that this ‘ordeal’ _will_ end anytime soon. We may need to prepare for the worst there.”

“The worst?”

Castiel took a breath in and shrugged helplessly. “Well. Starting by widening our circle of acquaintances. It can’t hurt to further our camouflage, and may help with any mental or emotional difficulties we may be facing.”

Hannah looked up quizzically. “What did that teacher say to you?”

“Enough. And I may have been able to arrange a kind of ‘play-date’ for you,” Castiel told her with some pride. And then he could arrive at Dean’s home to pick her up for a second time, only this time hopefully making a far better impression.

He still wasn’t certain exactly _why_ he was determined to make a good impression on Dean, but as he’d told Hannah, these bodies wanted what they wanted, and frequently it seemed that there was little use in questioning them.

“Do I want to know what a play-date is?”

*

“So what’d he look like then?”

Dean leant back in his chair and considered Jo’s question. “Like… about my height, dark hair, a sprinkling of stubble…”

Ash grinned as he walked over and handed him another beer. “A ‘sprinkling’?”

“Well what else are you supposed to say?”

Jo leaned forward, her eyebrows raised. “So just to clarify, you took Mr Stubble-Sprinkles out for drinks, looking at him like you’re talking about him now, and you’re sure he didn’t know you wanted it to be a date.”

Dean pouted moodily at her. “Well, he’s kind of an oddball, I think. Besides, good grieving widow, probably not interested even if he’s _not_ totally straight.”

“You give up too easy, Winchester.”

Dean rolled his eyes, but didn’t say anything. He could take a lot of things from Jo he never would from other people. As teenagers, they’d almost been a thing for themselves for a while, but then the whole Moms’ dating each other thing made it start feeling  too much of a weird incest dynamic, and they’d fallen back into friendship. Jo knew him better than just about anyone – whenever he’d started his whole sexuality crisis thing she’d been the first one he’d tried to talk to about it. Not sober at first, obviously, but he’d talked.

Just as Jo was opening her mouth to start telling him what to do, a door slammed upstairs and Dean heard the sound of Ellen’s voice calling his name, in the kind of tone asking whether he’d prefer burial or cremation.

“-Come up here, boy, I know you’re down there.”

Ash and Jo both glanced at him sympathetically, but showed no inclination to say or do anything about his situation. Perfect.

Pulling himself out of his chair, Dean made his way out of the basement with a scowl on his face. Whatever this was about, much as he both feared and loved Ellen, she had to quit trying to mother him already. If this turned into another tirade about college…

But it wasn’t about college, Dean understood with an unhappy drop of his stomach as he opened the door to the basement and saw his little brother asleep on the couch, and Ellen standing in front of it, her hands on her hips, seeming twice Dean’s height.

“Wanna explain how this happened for me?”

“Ellen…”

“What am I supposed to think, Dean? You drop outta college, unnecessarily, so that you can have more time to look after your brother…”

So maybe it was still the college thing, a little.

“…but dammit if I haven’t felt I need to come by yours most nights since it seems like you still need my help with that. And now I get over there tonight and you’ve left Sam on his own for nearly six hours…”

The kid himself seemed to be waking up now, blinking hesitatingly. “Dean?” he mumbled.

“I’m here, buddy,” Dean told him, smiling a little as he walked over to the couch, ignoring Ellen to crouch down at Sammy’s side. “I’m right here.”

“I’m sorry, Dean.”

“Hey, don’t worry about it.”

“No, _you_ shouldn’t worry, Sam,” Ellen said as she leant against the end of the sofa, rubbing her head wearily. “But Dean, Sam’s only seven and he needs more than just a big brother at the moment.”

Sam sat up like a shot. “No I don’t!”

“You think I don’t know that?” Dean growled. “He needs his _Mom_ , that’s why-”

“That’s why you’re over here, right? Dean the entire damn hunting community are out there looking for her, and the last thing the woman herself would want is for her youngest to end up neglected…”

“ _Neglected?_ Frigging hell Ellen, I’m out one goddamn night-”

“And that’s all it ever takes! Dean, I’m begging you now, let me take care of Sam.”

“Can we go home now, Dean?” Sam asked, looking only at Dean, with those piercing eyes that knew too much. Ellen wasn’t wrong. Dean frequently forgot the kid was still only seven.

And he shouldn’t have left him alone. Not because the kid couldn’t handle himself, but because he shouldn’t have to.

“Yeah, let’s get you home, kiddo,” Dean said, looking right at Ellen as he ruffled Sam’s hair.

“Dean…”

“Leave it, Ellen. We’re fine, alright? And we’ll be better once we get her back.”

“But what if we don’t?” Dean had never heard Ellen talk so quiet, so defeated, and since he didn’t want to see what the face that went with it would look like, he didn’t look back as he led his brother out the front door.

*

Dean was being really quiet in the car ride home. It was worrying, Dean usually liked being loud, especially around Sam.

“I’m sorry, Dean,” Sam tried again. “Should I pretend like we’re out next time?”

“Nah, don’t sweat it, shotgun,” Dean told him, smiling as he punched Sam’s arm. It wasn’t a real smile though.

“Your Aunt Ellen’s probably right about this one anyway. I shouldn’t have left you.”

“Not if you were looking for Mom. Just bring me with you next time.”

“I dunno, it might get kinda boring for you. Mostly it just ends up watching Ash watch a computer screen.”

Sam moved around in the leather seat so that he was facing Dean properly. “It wouldn’t be boring if I knew we were trying to help Mom. I want to know more and then I can help you.”

Dean shifted awkwardly and looked back at the road, meaning he was probably about to try lying to him again. Great. “Best way you can help Mom right now is by keeping on good at school. We need to get one of us through college, and your teacher there thinks you got everything it takes.”

“Really? He likes me?” So he didn’t say anything about…

“Yeah, thinks your amazing, apart from that one time you beat up a little girl.”

Sam made a face. Oh. “It’s not like what she says happened…”

“Well if it ain’t, then fine, trust me to believe in you alright? Don’t go hiding your notes to bring home, don’t leave me looking like an idiot on Parent’s Night. I had to do this whole stroppy exit in front of the hot Dad still waiting to go in.”

“Sorry.”

Dean rolled his eyes, smiling a little again though he was trying not to show it. “No don’t say sorry like _‘sorry’,_ say it more sincere like.”

“ _Sor_ ry _Dean_.”

“S’more like it.” Dean said with a smirk. “I accept your apology and you can make it up to me by helping me get a date.”

“With who?”

“The hot Dad, bitch.”

“ _Who’s_ hot Dad?” Sam asked, eyes narrowed. “Is he married?”

“What? No – what do you take me for?” Dean stuck out his lower lip moodily. “His wife’s dead.”

“ _Hannah’s_ Dad? _Dean.”_

“So you gotta ask her round on a play date thing. Hey, why not tomorrow?”

Sam flopped dramatically back into his chair. “Ugh, Dean. But she’s-”

“Needing a friend,” Dean said sternly.

Sam sighed again, but he thought about it. Hannah wasn’t that bad. She was actually really nice most of the time, it was just there was something… off, about her. But then, Moms’ leaving could do that to you. “Alright. But I get to ask Andy or Brady or someone too.”

Now Dean groaned. “Not that Brady kid again, no way. But sure, Andy or whoever’s fine, whatever you like.”

“Cool.” They were quiet for a while, listening to another one of Mom’s old rock tapes.

“Dean, Ellen’s not really gonna make me live at hers, is she?”

“Nah, no way, buddy.”

“Cool,” Sam said with a nod, and sat back to relax again, because Dean hadn’t put his lying face on for that.

*

When Castiel arrived to pick Hannah up from school the next day and was pleased to see Dean also standing waiting for the children to be let out. He stood for a few moments deciding how he should go about approaching him, or whether or not he should even, before walking over to him. Humans made thousands of connections with others all the time. There was no harm in conversation.

“Hello, Dean,” he managed eventually after walking over to stand behind him. The reaction was greater than he’d anticipated.

“Jesus, Cas, don’t scare me like that,” Dean warned him, keeping a steadying hand to his chest, and the other lingering on the pearl handle of…

“You feel it’s necessary to bring a gun to a playground?”

Dean’s eyes nervously scanned the people around them, presumably to ascertain that no one else had heard the question before taking a deep breath and putting both hand back in his jacket pockets. The leather of the jacket seemed well-worn – perhaps it had belonged to someone else before Dean. “Look, it’s licensed, alright? And hey, free country, can’t blame a guy for being careful.”

“I suppose not. How are you, Dean?”

Dean shrugged, in an almost bashful fashion. “Been better. Got a lecture off my Mom’s girlfriend about how Sammy’s doing with me. So all last night was just a double whammy of why I suck at this parenting gig.”

Castiel risked a small smile. “Well. I came home after being told Hannah wasn’t exactly emotionally healthy and she burst into tears at the sight of me,” he admitted, not sure why he was saying any of this to Dean. But it made Dean smile.

“Right. So we’re both a couple of screw ups at this?”

Castiel wasn’t sure as to how to respond to that, especially since he was almost certain that Dean regretted the words as soon as he’d uttered them, but luckily found he didn’t have to when the doors opened, and Hannah’s class spilled out into the playground. She was easy to spot, even without being able to recognise her by sensing her grace, because she moved so differently to the children around her, still growing into their minds, their limbs. After waving at her, Hannah noticed him, and walked over to him with Dean’s younger brother and another boy Castiel hadn’t seen before.

“Heya, Sammy. Beat up anymore classmates?” Dean asked his brother as he snatched the bag Sam was carrying out his hand. Sam narrowed his eyes and shoved himself against Dean’s leg. “Shut up.”

“ _Shut up,”_ Dean mimicked, earning himself another shove. “So. You bringing these guys home with us?”

Sam looked up at Castiel with some interest. “Is Hannah’s Dad coming too?”

Dean shrugged apologetically. “I said the kid could have some friends over if he wanted, and apparently Hannah’s in. That ok with you? I mean you’re welcome to come along with them, give me someone to talk to…”

Castiel glanced down at Hannah, who didn’t look all that certain about her inclusion as one of Sam’s friends.  “I would like that,” he assured Dean, thinking that this would make things easier for Hannah to leave whenever she wanted to without having to wait on him. His decision to accompany her had nothing to do with any selfish motives. Obviously.

*

Dean was a friendly host, and his idea of what to serve as a meal seemed although unconventional, oddly appealing.

“I kinda forgot to food shop…” he apologised as he flipped over another toasted peanut butter sandwich on the frying pan. This one was for Sam, and as requested, also contained chopped banana. “… But hey, this is something I can do well. I worked as a fry cook part-time as a freshman.”

“I’m certainly enjoying mine,” Castiel assured him, taking another bite of his sandwich. “So you don’t work there anymore?”

“Nope. Still friends with the owners though. What is it you do anyway?”

Castiel had a moment of panic as he sensed Hannah looking at him but didn’t dare look back at her. “I… uh… I was in the army.”

“Honourable discharge,” Hannah chimed in. Dean looked at her strangely.

“Our Dad was the same – ‘cept he left ‘cause he wanted to marry our Mom,” Sam offered before taking another large bite of his sandwich.

“Oh really?” Cas asked, wondering if he should have some sort of opinion on this fact. But Sam didn’t seem to be expecting one.

“Yeah. He died when I was little.”

“You’re still kinda little,” the other boy, Andy, who was slightly taller than Sam, pointed out.

“Not in MarioKart,” Sam reminded him. “Wanna go back up and play?”

“Yes,” Hannah said, unexpectedly. As Castiel caught her eye she gave a kind of half-shrug. “I want to win.”

“She’s something,” Dean whistled after they’d gone. “Seriously though, that’s one smart kid you got there.”

“And you,” Castiel said smiling as he sipped at his coffee. He was growing strangely attached to the beverage.

Dean sat down across from him. “I dunno if we could say he’s _my_ kid…”

“I think that’s how he thinks of himself. If… if it’s acceptable to ask, when was it that your father died, Dean?”

Dean’s face spasmed into a strange smile. “Well, uh. Well Sammy was just a baby when it happened…”

“That must have been a difficult time for you.”

Dean leaned forward, eyes steady. “Well uh, our Mom made sure the sonovabitch that did it never got away with it, so uh, that helped.”

“I imagine so.” Castiel tilted his head, regarding his companion. His friend? He wasn’t sure what it would be acceptable to call Dean. Whatever he was, he was certainly interesting.

“Hey Cas, uh…”

“What, Dean?”

“Uh, I don’t suppose you’d want to grab another drink some other night? I figure you’re probably still learning the area, and since I came back from college I don’t actually know a lot of people round here anymore…”

“A drink sounds good,” Castiel told him, without any consideration. “I’m learning to like beer.”

“Still just learning? Huh. And hey I uh, I promise not to bail on you this time.”

“Would tomorrow night suit you?”

Dean looked pleasantly taken aback. “Tomorrow works great, I think.”

“It’s a date then,” Castiel announced, remembering that this was a frequently used expression. Dean however didn’t seem to understand it, and for some reason it made him choke on his coffee.

*

“They’re hunters.”

“What?”

Hannah turned to look at Castiel, her arms folded. “Dean Winchester. I believe he’s a hunter.”

Castiel almost stopped the car. In truth until she’d said that he’d scarely been listening to her, he’d been wondering how much of a positive thing it was for their friendship that he frequently rendered Dean stuttering and blushing, rather uncharacteristically. Or whether it was unconnected with friendship entirely.

“What’s given you this impression?”

Hannah sighed, and tightened the grip of her arms around her body. “He carries a gun. He seems relatively unconcerned over his mother’s disappearance-”

“None of these things-”

“-and because his brother all but told me.”

“Sam told you that his brother was a hunter?”

“No. I found spellbooks hidden in his room, bookmarking pages on locator spells.”

Castiel shook his head slowly. “He’s far too young to be meddling with something like-”

“And I told him that. After I threatened to tell his brother he pleaded with me not to, because his brother hated witches, that they were his least favourite thing to hunt and that he was afraid what would happen if Dean knew.”

“This could still be coincidental. Many brothers tell outlandish stories, I’m led to believe.”

Hannah looked up at him with some disbelief. “Castiel, the Winchesters are dangerous and we should keep away from them. If they found out what we are-”

“What we _were._ ”

“But will be again. And few hunters ask so many questions before they kill, and in these forms we are all but helpless, Castiel.”

“Dean would.” He wasn’t sure what made him so certain, but he felt it strongly nonetheless. Dean would not kill innocents, not if he could help it. And much as Castiel had no doubt that if Dean hunted, he was good at it, he saw the chances of Dean knowing him long enough, and taking enough of an interest in him to find out about him were slim.

“Humanity is clouding your judgement. You’re only saying that because you… you obviously would like to fornicate with him.”

“And you’re only feeling so determined to put distance between us and them because Sam Winchester beat you at your video game,” Castiel told her with some satisfaction as he parked the car outside of their apartment building, ignoring Hannah’s last comment.

“How dare you,” Hannah started, before stopping, presumably for the same reason Castiel was staring – the figure leaning against the door of their building.

“He’s one of ours,” Castiel reminded her gently as he opened the car door. “We were expecting Inias,” he called as he stepped out onto the sidewalk.

“Well, since he’s dead now, I thought, I’ll just come along instead,” Balthazar said with a smile as he stepped out of the shadows. “Anything for old friends, you know me…”

*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I'm really sorry this update took so long, and I swear things start getting faster-paced from here on in :)


	4. Sleepover

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He didn’t sound like a demon, thought Sam. But there was one good way of being sure.

“Hey, Dean! Look what I found!”

Dean turned around reluctantly and looked at his little brother’s face, then his hands, which seemed to be holding something brown and slimy.

“’M’on the phone, Sammy, and you need to be in bed and what the hell is that thing?”

Sam looked down thoughtfully. “I think it’s a horned toad, maybe. Look at its eyes, Dean, look!”

Dean waved a hand at him frantically, warning him to keep back. “ _Put it back_ _Sammy,_ ” he growled, just as Bobby’s voice came through on the phone.

“Y’still there, Dean? Sure sounds like Ellen got things wrong, and you’re doing just fine over there…”

Dean rolled his eyes. “Oh yeah, what’s she been saying?”

“Oh, usual. Warned me off from giving you the job here, in case it _encouraged_ you or something…”

Dean’s grip on the phone tightened. “Did it work?”

“Nah, you start Wednesday.”

Dean exhaled in relief. “Well thanks for not bowing to the matriarchy, Bobby. But I was actually calling about the new houseguests you should be having around now. Alright if I come over and see them?”

“And who’ll be looking after Sam then if you do?” Bobby asked sharply.

“Maybe I’ll take him along – I dunno Bobby you tell me, this chick know something about Mom? Cause if she does it’s in Sammy’s best interest to know too.”

Bobby sighed. “Yeah, Garth got here about an hour ago, with the girl.”

“So I’ll come over there and talk to her.”

“I don’t know about that, Dean. Girl’s fragile. She needs some time to start settling in before we all start jumping down her throat about what she heard.”

“Bobby, you get that that’s my _Mom…”_

 _“_ And that’s _her_ Mom, and Dad, she just watched killed near in front of her. Dean, she’s Jo’s age, and she ain’t built for this life like her. Give her some time, and in the meantime I’ll try talking to her. If she says anything that’ll help find your Mom, I’ll shout. We all wanna find her, kid.”

Dean gritted his teeth together, before eventually taking a long breath in and stared down at his feet. “Yeah, I know. I get it, Bobby, but-”

“But you think you can ask questions better than I can, you whose parents hadn’t even met the time I started hunting? Hell, I’m still giving you the job, boy, but maybe Ellen’s right, you had that fancy college degree all lined up, why give that up now?”

“Because my Mom might be lying dead in a ditch somewhere for all I know!”

With a sinking heart, Dean heard the sound of shifting footsteps behind him. Sam. Who wasn’t meant to have heard that. But when Dean turned around no one was standing there. So maybe he’d got lucky…

Bobby sighed again. Nobody did sigh quite like Bobby, like he was breathing out winds of almighty judgement that could scrape the skin off your back. “Look, Dean. I’ll talk to her, alright? And if it sounds like something you oughta hear I’ll call, or tell you to come over. Meanwhile get your brother to bed already, it’s past ten.”

Dean almost smiled. “I hear you. And you call me tomorrow, whatever the news. Ash said this girl had demons on her back, so you watch yourself.”

“We know how to handle ourselves.”

Dean leant back against the kitchen door. “Yeah, sure. And say hi to Jody from me.”

“I’ll past your best on to Garth, too.”

“If you have to. Night, Bobby.”

“You look after yourself, boy.”

As Dean hung up the phone he looked around the hallway for any sign of his brother. Sammy… he shouldn’t have had to hear any of that. Especially if it might be true.

“Sam?” he called out, feeling worry start to gnaw at him.

To his relief, Sam’s answer floated down from upstairs. “What?”

*

“So this is your grand war chamber?” Balthazar asked easily, as he took a seat down in their armchair, glass of alcohol he’d found in one of the cupboards in his hand. Hannah circled behind him, even in her child’s form still able to appear taller, more menacing as she surveyed him. She had never liked, nor trusted Balthazar, Castiel remembered, and the news he brought of Inias’ death would not improve that.

“A sitting room, is what they call it, I believe,” Castiel told him, as he sat down on the sofa across from him, indicating with his eyes that Hannah should do the same.

Balthazar smiled and looked more closely at him. “So you have gone native then? Oh, that’s interesting, I like this.”

Castiel decided to ignore him, which was usually the best way of dealing with Balthazar’s conversation. “Humanity, is… strange. Confining. We’re more interested in hearing of how things in Heaven are progressing, as I’m sure you understand.”

Balthazar’s eyes lit up with sudden glee. “You’re lying.”

“What?”

Hannah looked over at him uncertainly. “Castiel?”

Castiel felt himself redden as he shuffled himself awkwardly around in his seat and Balthazar continued to stare at him. “Well you’re human now. And, Cassie, those surface thoughts of yours… they’re strange for a Heavenly rebel commander, even if he is in semi-retirement.”

Castiel fought to keep the other angel’s – no, the only angel in the room – eyes, and eventually Balthazar managed to bark out a laugh.

“Report, please,” Castiel forced out through gritted teeth.

Balthazar rolled his eyes, and in instant Hannah was standing by his chair, angel blade grasped tightly in her hand. “Show your commander some respect.”

His eyebrows rose. “And you’re going to make me, in that adorable child get-up of yours? Why’d you pick a child anyway?”

“That’s none of your concern,” Hannah snarled, as Castiel got to his feet.

“Enough, both of you,” he said, trying not to shout while he placed a settling hand on Hannah’s shoulder. “And Balthazar… report.”

Balthazar glared at Hannah from the corner of his eye, but nodded and relaxed back into his seat. “Ok. Well we aren’t losing people. Well, except Inias. And Ezekiel actually, that one was nasty. But we aren’t exactly gaining them either.”

Castiel slowly sank back into his chair. “What do you mean?”

“Well. Our leader on high, Michael, still hasn’t shown his face to anyone other than Zachariah. Or. Has he?”

Cas narrowed his eyes. “I don’t understand.”

“Nobody does. But our dear old friend, Naomi, claims to. And she’s calling Zach’s bullshit. Says Michael doesn’t want the apocalypse at all. The most soap-opera gold you could never make up.”

Castiel felt his stomach churn unpleasantly at the idea of Naomi still commanding any power after… But he forced himself to consider what this might mean for him, for the people he commanded. For their mission, which now apparently aligned with hers, as grating as the thought was.

But it almost physically _pained_ him, thinking on her face, the power she’d once held over him, over and over again…

“So what does she say he wants?” His voice sounded wrong, rusty, even to his own ears.

“For Heaven to shake itself up, just like you wanted. To lock up Zach and the old elite and stop what he’s started.”

“She’s stealing your plan,” Hannah murmured. Cas hadn’t even noticed her sitting down beside him.

He shook his head. “There was nothing for her to _steal_. I only wanted what was best for Heaven, and to stop the Earth’s destruction, sensible as the idea sounded, once.” He turned to look back at Balthazar. “You mentioned what Zachariah had already set in motion. What is that?”

Balthazar shrugged. “Destroying the pre-prepared Lucifer vessels, I guess. And preventing the breaking of anymore seals. Possibly a concerted storm of Hell. Stopping it all before it has a chance to start.”

Castiel nodded slowly. It would be necessary, he supposed, though it would not be how he would have planned it out, perhaps. But then that may be his newfound humanity doing the thinking for him. Life felt so much more… precious, now. Especially young lives. And the Lucifer vessels created by Azazel, they could not be much older, any of them, than the age of Hannah’s vessel… And _destroyed_ felt such a violent word…

But that issue could be considered at a later date, if he ever became re-involved in any kind of Heavenly decision process.

He sighed. “So is Naomi gaining much ground in winning over our people?”

“Yes and no. Most of them know of your position on Naomi and her work, yet now she appears to be singing to your tune, even hinting that she’d like to see you back. Also hinting you’ve abandoned everyone, of course. It depends on who you listen to.”

Hannah sat up bolt straight in her seat. “We must return then, to defend your position, Castiel.”

Castiel looked warily over at Balthazar. “I’m not so sure. If this is a ploy to draw me out, where then does that leave us?”

Balthazar nodded. “I’ll try finding out what I can. But you may need to be ready to leave soon. There’s only so much good you can do down here, Cas. Make that none.” He paused, as though thinking for a few moments. “Although… If you have any of that whiskey stuff around I’ll gladly sample a taste, see what all the fuss is about…”

*

Dean had felt nervous about a date before in his life. It was strange, he’d gained and sustained a reputation in high school and college as an incurable, and successful, womaniser. It wasn’t even until recently that he’d ever looked twice at a guy, never mind asked one out.

Ok, that first part was a lie. High school, in hindsight, may have been filled with a whole heap of repression, which was weird considering his Mom and Ellen had always been so open about themselves and he’d never thought that they were strange or wrong for it. Maybe it had something more to do with how he worried his Dad might have seen him, had he lived. Hell, Dean had loved his Dad like crazy, but the idea of ever admitting to the ex-marine that sometimes he liked the idea of kissing guys as well as girls was a conversation near impossible to imagine.

And admittedly Dean hadn’t exactly asked Cas out. They’d mutually agreed, in what was likely a totally platonic way, that it’d be cool if they got drinks together sometime, and agreed that this was as good enough night as any. But the fact that they were only meeting a day after they’d last seen each other… that was an intense little amount of time spent together, and that had to mean something, right?

Dean had given in and ordered himself a dink already by the time Cas arrived, which was strange. So far he hadn’t seemed like the type to be late to anything, and he’d been the one who’d said Nine. Walking in with that coat of his billowing out behind him, Dean thought that he looked like he was on some sort of mission as he watched the guy glance around the room with such intensity, like the room itself was offending him for not instantly pointing out Dean’s location. It was kinda… flattering.

“Heya, Cas,” Dean called out to him eventually, raising his beer bottle up, in an attempt to appear casual.

Cas huffed in a breath and walked over to take the chair beside Dean at the bar. “I’m sorry, Dean. I would have arrived sooner, but I currently have a houseguest over who has proved… distracting.”

“Dude. Chill,” he told him, amused, as he motioned for the bartender to bring them over another of the same. “You got family round or something?”

Cas pursed his lips together, still looking stressed. Dean wouldn’t mind trying his best to force him into relaxing… “Or something. An old… colleague who’s passing through, bringing news from home. And…” Cas nodded gratefully as a beer appeared in front of him. “…Not all of it was good news either.”

Either this ‘colleague’ was bringing through serious bad news, or that was the face of a guy having to live with his an ex.

 _Please not an ex,_ Dean thought beseechingly at any gods listening as he asked, “So how bad’s the bad news, if you don’t mind me asking?”

Cas took a long drink from his beer, and suddenly all Dean was able to focus on was the rhythmic bobbing of his Adam’s Apple. “Pretty bad,” he said eventually, wiping at his mouth with his sleeve. His wet mouth. Which Dean was about to stop staring at like a fucking creep. Right.

“Family of mine he’s still in touch with. They’re… they’re always fighting. That’s most of the reason me and Hannah left, and to hear about it again…” Cas looked grumpily down in some confusion at his beer bottle he was squeezing at with his hand, that Dean now noticed was empty. “Why does this _help?_ ”

Dean barked a laugh. “What, beer? Well uh, my Mom always used to say that it was kinda like lying to yourself, drinking. You didn’t need with the ‘real you’, or whatever, didn’t have to be so stuck in your own head with reality…” Dean smirked as he took another drink of his own beer and Cas ordered them a couple more. “Yeah, well, that’s what she used to say about my Dad, and she had to live with the guy, so I guess she’d know.”

“Sam seemed to speak of your father with much admiration.”

“Well, he didn’t know him, he just knows a whole lot of stories.” Dean stopped himself, uncertain as to why he was telling this guy so much. It was those eyes, he decided, they were listening eyes. “I’m sorry. I mean my Dad was awesome. A real hero. Only sometimes I think maybe Sammy got the better deal, getting the stories but not the guy.” He smiled to himself and took another drink. “And now I’m being a dick.”

Cas shook his head at him, with some fondness that Dean was almost certain he wasn’t imagining. He’d relaxed now. “I don’t think it’s being a ‘dick’ to say something that’s real, for you. Families can be difficult.” He smiled. “Except you’ve learned to live with yours, and I ran from mine.”

“I’m sure you had you reasons.”

“I did.” Cas smiled sadly at the bottles behind the bar. “And I think they were good ones. Dean, what is it your Mother does for living?”

Well that was a… sudden change of topic. “She was – is – a shop worker. But she came in and out of this family business of… exterminating. She didn’t always get on so great with her family either.”

Cas nodded solemnly. “That’s an… interesting line of work, I assume.”

And the guy had to be just being awkward, because no one could possibly be that un-sly in pumping someone for information.

And hey, maybe he wasn’t even naturally awkward. Maybe he was just suffering under Dean’s relatively unpractised flirting at guys.

“Yeah, well, they always found a way to rope her back in whenever they needed an extra pair of hands,” Dean continued, warming to his story in the lack of anything else to say. “And she was actually out travelling to a job for them when…”

“When she disappeared.”

Dean took another drink. “Yeah. That.”

“And you’ve had no contact from her since.”

“Whole big load of nothing.”

Cas met his eyes with a sympathy that seemed almost unnatural and cautiously laid a hand on Dean’s leg, in what was probably meant to be comfort. But the placement of the hand instead served more of a distraction from his thoughts than it said anything about solidarity over them.

And then his leg started vibrating.

His phone. His cell phone started vibrating. “I should, uh, I should get this,” Dean managed, breaking the eye contact he hadn’t been aware he’d been holding for so long. “Could be Sammy, y’know?”

It wasn’t.

“Jody, what’s up?”

“Dean,” she sighed down the phone in relief, which put Dean badly on edge. Jody never sounded that desperate. She and Bobby were pretty much always the same dependable grumps about everything.

And the fact that it was Jody calling, and not Bobby…

“Dean, I don’t wanna ask but I need you to get over here.”

“What happened?”

“It’s Bobby,” she managed, her voice breaking over his name. “Bobby and Garth…  I was – I… I should have got that fucking tattoo when Bobby asked…”

Dean’s heart sank as he stood up and moved away from the bar. “Tattoo? Jody?”

“It was – It was a demon, and I – I _was_ the demon, dammit, and I hurt Bobby, and I hurt Garth, and I tried to hurt the girl, I needed to get to her…”

“Jody!” Dean snapped. “This wasn’t your fault." Though it was, of course it was. "Now, tell me what you need me to do.”

“Right. They got hurt – _I_ hurt them – hurt them real bad, Dean. Probably woulda killed ‘em both too if Anna hadn’t managed to exorcise the thing right outta me. Didn’t even know the kid could talk that much…”

“Alright, so what’s happening with Bobby and Garth right now?”

He heard her take another shuddering breath. “I… I called an ambulance. I think they’re going to be alright. But I need to go with them, need Bobby to see me when he wakes up and know we’re alright, so I need someone to come over here and look after Anna. If these things are all trying to get to her so bad then she’s not safe here on her own, and I don’t feel right asking Jo, she’s still just a kid herself…”

Dean breathed in. Bobby was going to be fine. That was the important thing. “I’ll be right over, Jody. You make sure and get yourself looked after too, alright?”

“…and I’m sure Ellen wouldn’t mind you leaving Sam with her…” Jody continued to babble as Dean pursed his lips in frustration. No fucking way was he leaving Sam with Ellen, he might not ever get him back. But there was no way he was taking him along, but who else but Ellen was going to take in a seven year old at a minute’s notice?

Unconsciously, Dean felt his eyes pulled back to the bar, and Cas, glancing over at him, like he wasn’t sure he was allowed to be looking, and thought that hopefully, he had his answer.

*

“It’ll be fun, Sammy, you love sleepovers,” Dean had told him firmly before dropping him off with Hannah’s Dad. Dean did that a lot, saying things really loudly and certain like that would make lies real. Maybe it helped him, at least, but it didn’t feel like much of an assurance for Sam, standing outside Hannah’s apartment building and watching his brother drive down the street and away from him.

The demons had tried to get Uncle Bobby, Dean had told him, because sometimes Dean told him things. The demons had tried to get Uncle Bobby but they screwed up and Jody kicked their asses out, but now she needed Dean’s help, just for a little while. Only a night, Dean had told him, and Sam had been sure that he’d meant it. But his Mom had meant it, probably, almost _definitely_ she had, when she said he’d have Dean looking after him for just a few days. She never said where she was going but she did say she’d be back, and now Dean was leaving too.

But it was just for a night, Sam reminded himself as he put on his backpack. That was what he tried telling himself every time that Dean had to leave him on his own for a bit, that it wasn’t going to be for long. Because Dean needed him to be brave, he could be brave. And he wasn’t going to be stupid, either. He wasn’t all that sure he trusted Hannah, or her Dad all that much, even if Dean did. He didn’t act like a real grown-up and she didn’t really act like a kid. And she’d known what his spellbooks were the instant she’d seen them, even though Dean hadn’t known.

Maybe she knew about witches because _she_ was a witch. And maybe her Dad was one too.

So Sam was going to make sure he was extra careful. Maybe he’d stay up all night even, just in case they tried anything funny. He didn’t want to wake up a frog. Dean probably wouldn’t recognise him.

Almost immediately after being led into their apartment, Sam was certain that they couldn’t be witches. Dean had always said that witches were really filthy and disgusting, and their home was really clean – almost creepy clean. Then again though, he’d probably started to forget how clean a house should look since his Mom had left, he thought moodily as he waited for Hannah’s Dad to close the door and show him where he was supposed to sleep. Dean either didn’t clean at all, or he cleaned everything, twice.

There was a man on the couch sitting talking to Hannah, Sam noticed, as Hannah’s Dad nervously laid a hand down on his shoulder, and said “I expect you’re tired now, Sam,” he told him.

“No,” Sam answered honestly, as Hannah and the man sitting beside her turned to look at him, and added, “are you my brother’s boyfriend?” – because he wanted to know what he would say. He didn’t say anything at first, he just kind of looked startled, and squinted, like their old cat, Spock, used to do. He tried making an “Uh…” noise, which Sam could only guess wasn’t going to be a yes, which was probably good for Dean if he turned out to be a witch after all, because then the man on the couch cut him off.

“What… _abomination_ did you find out there, Castiel?” he asked Hannah’s Dad. Sam wasn’t sure what an abomination might be, but he had the idea it might be very big, and squiggly, or maybe hairy, and he certainly hadn’t noticed one of those coming in, but the man was staring at him intently as though he should know something about it anyway.

“What’s an abonation?” he asked eventually, when no one spoke, because his Mum had always told him that asking questions about something you didn’t know was a smart thing to do. But no one answered him, and Sam didn’t think it was because they didn’t know. He thought that they probably knew what to say but didn’t want to tell him. Nobody ever wanted to tell him anything.

“What are you talking about, Balthazar?” Hannah hissed up at the other man. His head turned almost like an owl’s between her and her Dad, as though he was very surprised by them both.

“Then… you don’t know?” He laughed. “Of course you don’t, you can’t see it. It’s a… coincidence? Right. Alright.” He looked down at Sam with a forced, nervous kind of smile. “Hello there.”

“Hullo.”

Above him, Sam heard Hannah’s Dad make a noise that sounded a lot like a growl. “Balthazar, _what is it?_ ”

The Balthazar guy bit his lip. “C’mon, Cassie. Not in front of the kids, eh?”

Hannah sat up on her chair angrily. “Balthazar-”

But before she could say anything else, he smiled and looked at her Dad saying, “I think I’ve already outstayed my welcome long enough.” And then he vanished.

Honest-to-God Invisibility Cloak vanished.

Dean would never believe it.                 

“He shouldn’t be able to talk like that to you,” Hannah said, in a low tone.

Sam looked up at her Dad, who looked like he was angry enough to Hulk out on the room. Then suddenly he dropped to a crouch and looked right at Sam. “That man was a friend of mine, but he needed to leave. So he… uh. Left.”

“No he didn’t. I saw him, he was there, and then he vanished.” Sam lowered his voice. His Mom had warned him not to say things about what she did around normal people, but he was pretty certain now that neither Hannah or her Dad were anything like normal, and he was frightened. “Was he a demon?”

He noticed Hannah give him an unexpected smile at that. Her Dad meanwhile, shook his head slowly, still apparently not sure how to answer any of his questions. “No he wasn’t,” he told him, and looked him right in the eye. People did that to show that they weren’t lying in movies, but a good liar would know that, and do it anyway.

And if he was a demon it wouldn’t even bother him.

Sam breathed in sharply. Maybe they were all demons, and Hannah wasn’t even a real girl. Or maybe she was a demon’s prisoner and he should rescue her.

“I think it’s best if you go to bed now, Sam – it’s getting late,” Hannah’s Dad, if that’s what he really was , said firmly, as Sam took his bag off of his back and unzipped it to start rummaging around for his gun. His Mom wouldn’t let him have a real one, and Sam wouldn’t have wanted one since it seemed like they always ended up hurting people, but this one was even better – Dean had got it for him on his 6th birthday and it was bright green and plastic and Sam loved it.

“You too Hannah, you should also, uh, go… go to bed.”

He didn’t sound like a demon, thought Sam. But there was one good way of being sure. After running closer to him, Sam fired, right at his neck. He didn’t flinch, so Sam turned around and managed to shoot at Hannah too, on the second turn. She wasn’t a demon either.

Castiel flicked the holy water off of him. The top of his shirt collar was still all wet, and Sam felt a little bad, so he apologised, but he still didn’t really sleep much until Dean arrived. He knew now that they weren’t demons but he hadn’t ruled out them being witches, and in the fairytales witches liked eating little boys. And being eaten would probably be even worse than being a frog.

*

It had started raining by the time Dean got out of the car and walked into Bobby’s, using the spare key he and Jody always kept under their favourite flower-pot. It was almost charming, how suspicious they were in most aspects of their life bar home security to run-of-the-mill burglars. But then, they were special people like that. The idea that something so bad had happened to them… Bobby, who was going to be ok, had to be ok. Hell, he’d been the closest thing Dean had had to a father after his Dad, well. After his Dad. And Jody. If that wasn’t the worst thing a person could go through. Having your body all used up like that by an evil thing, when all you could do was watch as you went on and hurt the people closest to you… Yeah. Dean still remembered, though he tried not to, on an everyday policy, not to think on that, when he’d known exactly how that had felt. His Mom had always made it clear that there wasn’t any point in dwelling on these things, Hakuna Matata and all that shit. It was just harder to think like that whenever she wasn’t around to remind him to think positive, or to stop thinking.

But none of this today was anything to do with Dean. This was all about the people he cared about who were still alive and in hospital, and the girl they’d tried protecting, who’d ended up rescuing them.

Whenever things settled down, he probably owed her a drink, Dean thought to himself as he walked in, and found the place empty.

“Hey!” He shouted out, hearing his voice bounce a little on the walls as he strained to remember the girl’s name. “…Anna? You there?”

Hell maybe she’d run off. With demons after her like that…

Or maybe she’d done the smart thing and remembered about the panic room, Dean eventually remembered, and rushed downstairs, finding the door to the panic room open, and a girl inside.

“Christo,” she said clearly, and Dean watched her whole body relax when he didn’t respond. She was very pretty, he couldn’t help seeing, all red hair and big eyes and pale skin which probably shouldn’t be as pale as it was.

“You cold in there, sweetheart?”

“A little. Are you Dean?” she asked as he walked into the room.

He smiled. She didn’t look crazy. “Yeah, that’s me. Jody called. Sounds like you were quite the hero… Anna?”

“Yes, that’s me,” she croaked, smiling shakily. “I’m just… I’m so _sorry”,_ she managed, with great effort. “I think I must be cursed. Everywhere people keep dying around me.”

“Well, no one’s dying this time,” Dean said forcefully, as he sat down beside her. “And it sounds as though that’s thanks to you.”

“I’m remembering things now. In little pieces. This time it was something I needed to remember.”

“Oh yeah? What other things you remember about?”

“Things about the angels, mostly. They’re looking for me,” she murmured, looking at the ground. “Not as badly as they’re looking for their Castiel, but still they want me dead.”

It was a coincidence, obviously. One of the universe’s fun little quirks. But even knowing that, Dean felt his heart rate speed up by a million as he asked, “Oh yeah? What’d he do?”

She shook her head slowly. “I think he began a rebellion against Heaven, like Lucifer, but fell to Earth with only one follower before they could find him to punish him. And they’re still looking for him, especially since three more angels disappeared last week. He still has many followers, and they fight for him while they wait to hear from him. But things are changing again…”

Again with the fieldmouse heartrate. Three angels. Cas, he took out three guys who attacked him right before Dean first met him. So he claimed anyway. “Do they say who the follower is? I mean if they’re looking for them too they’ve gotta have a name, right?”

Anna looked at him in interest. “You know something.”

Dean’s mouth went dry as he cracked a smile. “Well, I sure hope not. What was the name, Anna?”

“Hannah. She was the only one to go with him, and it’s speculated that they remain together on Earth, waiting to get back involved…”

Dean tuned out Anna's voice as his hands rolled into fists, and a load of different images rolled through his head. Cas, after Dean had made him smile, Cas walking with Hannah, who talked like a college professor, Sam, asleep on Ellen’s couch as Ellen laid into him for leaving him alone and vulnerable, his Mom telling him to look out for his little brother while she was gone, Ellen telling him that one night of not being there could be all it took, Cas covered in blood… blood, dripping into Sammy’s mouth. He’d been so small, then…

Sam. They would want Sam. The very thing Dean had just handed them, and from what Ash had said Anna knew, they might have his Mom too.

Anna touched his arm gently in obvious concern. “Dean, are you alright?”

“Yeah. I’m just gonna need to take you on a drive.”

*


	5. Coffee Invite

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I had no idea I was out drinking with a heavenly celebrity – if I had, well…” Dean pressed the gun a little closer to Castiel’s neck, forcing Castiel to expend nearly all his efforts on forcing himself not to gulp. “…I might justa brushed up on my Hail Marys before coming to see you again.”

Castiel had done a limited research since purposefully falling to earth about the theory on aspects of humanity he hadn’t realised before he hadn’t been capable of understanding. Much of the reading he’d been most interested in was about dreaming, and what it might be about – where it came from, what it was – the kinds of questions he’d never bothered to think on when the answers didn’t directly affect him. The dream he was having the night Balthazar had left so abruptly at the sight of Dean Winchester’s little brother was one of those which seemed to fit into no theory he’d read. It was mostly about a sandwich.

The stranger part of the night though was waking up to find a gun held down against his throat. A gun brandished by a hand that seemed familiar.

“Good dreams there, buddy?” a rough voice asked him. A familiar voice. Castiel squinted in the dark up at the figure. Dean. Dean’s voice, deep and rough and angry with him. And he wasn’t dreaming anymore. He was awake and Dean Winchester was straddling him, pressing him down, though not in any way which might, feasibly, have been in any way pleasant.

“…Dean,” Cas murmured eventually, in a low tone, the kind he might use to avoid spooking an animal.

“Just thought I’d swing by early to pick up Sammy, and I actually brought along someone who knows you. I had no idea I was out drinking with a heavenly celebrity – if I had, well…” Dean pressed the gun a little closer to Castiel’s neck, forcing Castiel to expend nearly all his efforts on forcing himself not to gulp. “…I might justa brushed up on my Hail Marys before coming to see you again.”

“Dean, I can explain,” Castiel told him, steadily. Hannah had tried to warn him. A hunter, she’d told him, that meant that they should avoid them.

“Oh yeah? Go ahead, _angel_. ‘Cause I’m all ears. Why don’t you start by telling me what the hell happened to my Mom. And while we’re on the subject, what you wanted with Sam, you sick fuck.”

Cas opened his mouth, wanting to say something to make clear his confusion, but nothing he could think of seemed to effectively cover it. “Dean, you _asked_ me to look after Sam.”

“That’s right, you were real clever about all this, weren’t you pal?”

It was strange, the aggressive categorisation of Castiel as Dean’s friend, he reflected as he stared up into the glints of light in the other man’s eyes, straining to see any sign that he would be willing to listen to him.

“Dean if you let me up I can explain everything. But I can’t tell you where your mother is because I don’t know that.”

“ _Liar,”_ Dean snarled at him, and, suddenly afraid that he might actually use the gun on him, Castiel swung his legs round to knee into Dean’s side and managed to catch him off balance enough to fall off of the bed. Dean was quick to regain his balance and kneel on the bed again, still pointing his gun at Cas, who’d managed to find his angel blade on the floor. Useful for defending him against almost anything, Cas reflected. The almost now including an ordinary gun brandished by an ordinary, but very angry, and still frustratingly attractive, human.

“If I shoot you how’s that gonna work out?” Dean tightened his grip on the pearl handle of his gun, lips dragged up into a strangled smile.

Even as he crouched defensively in his boxers on the floor, Castiel wanted to say something glib, inviting Dean to try his best to hurt him, when he remembered that there was no point in bravado when he was almost entirely defenceless. “Depending on your aim, perfectly, for you. I am as human as you are.”

Dean snorted. “Sure you are. Just like you’re actually a single Dad with a dead wife.”

Castiel felt his body go cold inside. _Hannah._ “Hannah,” he choked, “You’ve not-”

“Oh don’t worry, I left her sleeping.” Dean cocked his head to the side with a smile. “I’m prepared to do a load of things, but shooting little kids being used as meatsuits ain’t exactly up on my wish list. Why a kid anyway?”

“We can’t enter a human vessel without consent. That child-”

“So a seven year old can give consent now, can they?”

Castiel opened his mouth and had to close it again. There was a lot he hadn’t considered before stripping himself of his grace, but it had been Hannah’s decision, and at the time he hadn’t thought it an inherently bad one… “She needed help.”

“So kidnap was the only obvious answer.” Dean stared down at him, squinting angrily. “What is it with all you things? You have no fucking idea what it feels like, having your mind and body taken over for whatever fucking joyride-” He cut himself off, his mouth hardening into a thin line.

“I understand what it means to be controlled absolutely,” Castiel told him, speaking low, and desperately trying to hold the other man’s eye contact, to force some kind of understanding on him. “That’s why I’m here.”

“Oh yeah, that’s right. You’re the messiah punk angel.” Dean rolled his eyes, keeping his gun raised and steady. “And what’s the dude you’re riding think on that?”

“There’s no ‘dude’ in here but me, Dean. Not for a long time now.”

There was an almost imperceptible reaction from Dean at that, something the way he held his shoulders, just a little. Feeling as though he might, finally, be getting through to Dean, Castiel continued on in the same measured tone with, “Dean, what is it you’re planning on doing from here? I would prefer to get some sleep tonight. And I was not keeping your brother for any other reason than because you asked me to. As I’ve said already, I have no idea why you’d even consider that I would know anything more about your mother than what you’ve already told me.”

“And why should I trust you?”

Castiel took a short breath in. “Because in the short time I’ve known you I have never lied about anything of significance.”

Dean stayed quiet for what felt like a long time after that. “You can’t leave that kid locked out of her own body. That ain’t right, Cas.”

“Hannah isn’t keeping her vessel. This is a temporary solution to help keep us hidden. Once we can sort things in Heaven nothing will stop us from returning there.” Dean’s face stayed hard, but he didn’t look away. “You can’t hold me like this all night,” Castiel pointed out again. “And if you kill me now then you kill the only movement in Heaven in opposition to the coming apocalypse.” Which wasn’t, he realised after he said it and remembered Balthazar’s news of Naomi, strictly true…

But at the mention of the apocalypse, Dean twitched in something like recognition. “’Course the only proof I have of that is your word, which counts for so much.”

“By all means consult whatever source it was giving you your limited information on me. Anyone who knows anything about me or the current state of Heaven could tell you the same.”

Keeping his eyes fixed on Castiel, Dean raised his eyebrows. “Anna?” He shouted. “C’mere a minute.”

Sam Winchester trailing warily at her leg, a slim red-haired young woman entered the room and looked down at him. “You’re Castiel?” she asked.

Castiel nodded, slowly, feeling more than a little confused.

“I expected you to be taller.”

“Anna,” Castiel managed. The angel who had chosen to fall long before the thought of rebellion, before any feeling of doubt at all, had even entered his mind. Now a human woman, who would unlikely have few memories, but several abilities – perhaps she didn’t separate herself from all of her grace…

“Anna,” he breathed again, testing the name on his tongue. It suited her, somehow.

“Are you guys having a moment here?” Dean asked, eyes darting in frustration between the two of them, dropping his gun slightly, but Anna was still standing in one place, obviously confused.

“I’m sorry, I don’t…”

“What’s going on here?” Dean growled, just as Hannah entered the room behind Sam,

“Excellent question,” she put in quietly, making Sam jump. “Castiel – are you alright?”

“I’m fine, Hannah, go back to bed.”

Dean snorted. “Yeah, can’t have the actual kid in there losing any beauty sleep.”

Castiel watched as Hannah’s eyes looked around, assessing the situation. “You don’t look fine,” she said eventually, and suddenly her blade was pressed into Sam’s back, her other hand pulling him further away from Anna.

“Let Castiel up again, put away the gun, and I’ll let go of your brother and you can leave. I think that’s the most sensible course from here.”

Dean’s eyes blazed as he looked over at Castiel, and Castiel found himself wishing, fond as he was feeling for Hannah’s loyalty, as she held her grip firm despite Sam’s attempts to kick at her from behind, that her actions had been a little less… crass. After the conversation they’d just had, this all felt so wildly inappropriate, and hardly effective in showing Dean that they were the ones on the side of humanity, with the best interests of its children at heart…

“Don’t move, Sammy,” Dean ordered from the bed, as he slowly put his gun back into his backpocket and raised both his arms with practised ease. “Feel free to stand up now, Cas,” he stated coldly, and Castiel could’ve flinched at the look in his eye. _We can’t stay here_ , he thought, with sudden clarity. _No where we can go is far enough away._

As Castiel slowly got to is feet, Dean walked off the bed, keeping one eye warily on him. Only a few hours before Dean had been buying them both drinks, something which Castiel could’ve sworn had meant something. Humans were always so dramatic in their emotions.

*

“ _Sonovabitch,”_ Dean burst out again as they left the apartment building and he kicked over a bin on the sidewalk. He never would have acted like that if their Mom was there, Sam knew. But then a whole load of things would never have happened if she’d been there. She always knew what to do next, for one thing.

Sam had a feeling that Dean didn’t, right now.

The woman Dean had come in with smiled down nervously at Sam as they both waited for Dean to finish breathing heavily against the wall. “Dean?” she said eventually.

He didn’t turn around to look at them. “Just… get back in the car. You too, Sam.”

“You need to unlock it first,” Sam pointed out. He felt like he was doing pretty well, seen as he’d just got held at knifepoint. It wasn’t exactly the first time though – though his Mom always tried to keep the hunting separate, sometimes things went wrong and work had come home with her.  Whenever something like that would happen though she’d always give him a big hug and make a huge fuss of him for days. Now Sam thought that it was probably Dean who needed the huge hug. That probably had something to do with getting all betrayed by his not-demon not-boyfriend.

Grown-ups were complicated.

Dean didn’t say a word for a long time at first when they got back in the car. He didn’t even need to complain about the traffic on the roads because there wasn’t really any this early in the morning.  Sam was glad it was the weekend and he didn’t need to hav e school the next day.

Eventually Dean spoke up, and his voice was all gravelly like it was whenever he was drinking a lot. “Did they do anything to you, Sammy?”

“Not really. I zapped ‘em both with the holy water pistol, but Hannah’s Dad – wait, is he really her Dad?”

“No. That was a lie.”

“I _knew_ it,” Sam said, feeling pleased with himself. “Right. Well that didn’t work, but he wasn’t even mad. He just wanted me to forget about the man who disappeared.”

“The man who disappeared?”

“Yeah, there was another guy there when I got there. I don’t think he was American. Anyway he called me this word I can’t remember now, but it didn’t sound nice, and then he basically called the other two stupid and then he disappeared. I don’t think Hannah liked him much. Is that her real name?”

“Yes,” the girl in the front with Dean said.

“How about you, Anna, you alright?” Dean asked her. That was her name then, Anna. She was very pretty, and Sam thought she was also probably needing a hug.

“I’m… I’m fine.”

“So why’d you do it?”

“Do what?”

“Do the whole angel-falls-to-earth thing.”

Sam was confused, and he figured Anna probably was too, because she was gaping at Dean lie he’d started speaking Spanish. “I’m not-”

“C’mon. All the demons after you, Cas – Mr Revolution up there knowing who you were, listening in on the angels – that’s gotta be it, right? I just don’t get why.”

“It’s true that I know much about Heaven I have no reason to, but-

“You got some other explanation ready?”

She was quiet a long time. Angels, Sam thought. They were always the good guys though, right?

“No,” Anna said eventually. “But I’m – I’m human, I had parents, parents who loved me…”

“Who put you in a mental hospital because you were listening to angels.”

“You don’t know anything about it,” Anna growled at him.

“Ok, so tell me. And start with everything you know about the angels we just left. Is there any way we can be sure they were telling the truth about the whole new lease of human life thing?”

“Well you threatened one at gunpoint and we’re all still alive to talk about it. I’d call that proof.”

“That bad, huh?”

“Believe me. There’s a reason the very threat of a Civil War between them would be enough to bring on the apocalypse.”

“And Cas – Castiel – he’s trying to stop it?”

Sam was trying very hard to keep listening – this was starting to sound interesting – but it was difficult keeping his eyes open now…

“Yes. But it’s more complicated now. I think – I think he’s not now leading the only faction who want to stop it. I’m not sure I understand it all…”

When Sam woke up they were outside Aunt Ellen’s place, and Dean was standing over him, a tired smile on his face. “C’mon champ, you and Anna are gonna stay with Ellen and Jo for a bit.”

“You _called Ellen_?”

“Yeah, necessity forced me to it.”

Sam jumped out of the car with his backpack and lowered his voice to a whisper. “Is she gonna let me come back home with you after?”

“’Course. She gets that this is something important I need to do.”

“And what’s that?” Sam asked, squinting suspiciously up at his big brother.

“I’m gonna make sure those two Heavenly losers back there don’t decide to leave town yet. They’re the first lead I’ve had on Mom so far – Anna says the angels did try taking her for some reason, she just doesn’t know why.”

“And it’s ok to trust her?”

Dean did this big sigh out. “It’s probably not a good idea not to trust anyone who ain’t family, Sam. But I think she’s alright.”

Yeah, Sam thought sleepily, but Dean thought that Hannah and her Dad were more than alright, and look what had happened there. Sam was starting to wonder if maybe Dean wasn’t always right about everything and it wasn’t a nice thing to wonder about.

*

“Castiel, outside!”

At the panic in Hannah’s clear, child’s voice, Castiel dropped the beg he was packing and ran to her side by the window looking down onto the straight, his gaze obediently following her wavering finger.

Dean was back. That was his car, his ‘baby’ as he’d called it sitting outside by their sidewalk, and Castiel could only assume that that was Dean inside it, and he allowed himself a fleeting moment to imagine what Dean would be looking like when angry – would he have his jaw clenched? Would he be agitated or calm?

“He’s not going to let us leave, is he?”

Castiel shook his head wearily in confirmation. “No.” In truth he hadn’t considered Dean’s intentions until now. He hadn’t thought much of anything except on feeling some measure of relief that he was back at all. It didn’t seem to matter that Castiel knew he shouldn’t feel this much desire to explain himself to a human, that he shouldn’t feel he’d betrayed Dean, in some way. The idea was obviously nonsensical. Dean was a human, one of the billions he was trying to _save_ , and in any case Castiel had known him for barely over a week. He’d been alive for thousands of years – a week was a blink of an eye.

Well. A week _had_ been a blink of an eye. Now he was human, and a blink of an eye was a blink of an eye.

“What should we do?”

“I think we should go back to bed.”

Hannah’s dark hair whipped at her face as she spun around in disbelief. “What? But he’s not letting us leave – he’s trying to intimidate us, Castiel!”

Castiel suppressed a yawn. “And I for one am feeling tired enough to allow him to intimidate us, for now. I don’t think he’ll try anything, Hannah.”

“Fine. Then I’ll take first watch.”

“Hannah, no. You need sleep. More than I do – your body needs rest.”

“Please don’t infantilise me-”

“I’m sorry, but it’s difficult not to when I am speaking to someone possessing the body of a human child. I’m sure I don’t need to order you to go to your room, Hannah.”

Her eyes had started to water in wearied frustration as she turned to walk away from him and he was tempted to go after her and apologise for the harshness of his tone, but instead he only lingered by the window for a few more moments before leaving for his own bed.

When he woke up, Dean’s car had not moved.

*

Dean had left the car only twice to take a piss and to pick up something alcoholic to keep him functional. He figured the not-angels were probably sleeping and wouldn’t even have noticed, and so far, he seemed to have been proved right. Their car was still parked outside, and everything seemed still. He was beginning to feel like he had the advantage in this, and the fear instilled by Anna’s descriptions had begun to die down.

Still though. An angel. An honest-to-God flying Ding Dong Merrily on High _angel_ and Dean’d managed to spend the entire time he’d known him trying to get in his pants. Fucking typical. Jo was never gonna believe it, whenever he finally answered his phone to explain the whole deal to her. He just wasn’t feeling up to it just yet. Still too busy worrying how far he might have to go to chase down the first lead he’d had on finding his Mom.

It was coming on seven in the morning when he finally answered his phone, without checking the caller idea. “What,” he drawled irritably, but it wasn’t Jo on the line.

“Hello Dean. I thought you should know that if you’re needing a coffee break we have plenty up here.”

Dean stayed quiet for a few beats. “So the heavenly squad are all caffeine fiends, huh?”

“We’re not angels, currently. And in the short time that has been the case I’ve found that most humans hunger for some form of energy this early in the morning, and I’m sure you haven’t slept.”

“Well, thanks for the offer, but I’m remembering your uh, ‘daughter’s’ little stunt with her knife a few hours back and I think I’m just fine where I am. And I think I’m fine with you where you are as well.”

Because Dean wasn’t ready for any sort of real confrontation. Not yet, not even for his Mom. Not when it was Cas, not when there was a kid Sammy’s age involved.

And tempting as the thought of coffee was, Dean really didn’t fancy choking to death on it.

“And how long, if I may ask, do you plan to have us here?”

“I guess I’m still figuring that out, Cas,” Dean told him honestly.

“Well then we obviously wait on your good graces,” the not-angel said scathingly, and hung up the phone. Dean twirled his phone between his forefinger and thumb for a few minutes before laying back in the leather seats and huffing out a sigh.

If anything, he should be feeling more vigilant. The guy had called him – it was probably just a decoy and they were both sneaking out their back window or something. But it didn’t matter that he knew Cas had technically been lying to him since they’d met – Cas just didn’t seem like the type to try pulling that kind of stunt off.

And besides, even if he was using this minute to try and make a run for it, they’d already proved pretty conclusively that Dean hadn’t made up his mind on how he was supposed to deal with that. A real hunter would have just known what to do, he wouldn’t have sat around for twenty minutes with a gun trained at a thing’s head making small-talk with it. But then Dean wasn’t all that much of a real hunter.

He’d had a weird sorta hybrid childhood. His Mom had never wanted for him, or later for Sam, but she’d been more adamant about it with him growing up – things had been different then – that they wouldn’t end up growing up like she had, a professional killer damn near since she could walk. She’d got away from her family – mostly, anyway – and she’d got married to her happy ex-marine dream-guy. She’d got out.

It was his fault, obviously it had been Dean’s fault, that she’d been forced back in. He was five, maybe, and didn’t remember much about it at the time. But the way his Mom told it she’d been wary for weeks, there’d been a lot of unseasonal deaths among kids, and she’d been on guard. The shtriga attacked one night, and she wasted it no problem – Dean had been fine. But his Dad had seen the whole thing, and he could never just leave alone, he always needed to hear the whole deal, needed to get involved – to _help_. And his wife had a whole lot to tell him. After that, neither of them had given Dean quite the sort of childhood they’d meant to give him, but it had been pretty normal, all considered. Sure, he had a shotgun in his hands before he could tie his shoelaces properly but it never felt like a military drill, at least not the way his Mom taught it. And sometimes she got mad at his Dad for the constant hunting trips he wanted to go on with her, that he’d found going on, _needing dealt with, Mary_ halfway across the country. And sometimes his Mom would stay and look after Dean, and sometimes he’d get left with Ellen, or Bobby.

It wasn’t such a bad way to grow up. He’d grown up knowing what was really out there, and he’d seen a whole lot of it. But he wasn’t exactly your average revenge-obsessed petty criminal kinda hunter. He’d been to _college._

Hell, if it hadn’t been for the mess with his Dad, and now this, he’d basically be way too normal in the head for this line of work.

But as it worked out, he had got a heathy dosage of guilt and revenge-obsession outta that. So maybe he was a real hunter.

But dammit he still wanted that coffee.

*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this is all taking so long - exams and work keep getting in the way of my ideal writing schedule... Thanks so much to anyone still reading :)


	6. Burger Date

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “We’re not monsters.”
> 
> Dean raised both eyebrows sceptically. “So then what are you? And this better sound convincing.”
> 
> “Or what?” Castiel asked him, unable to stop himself. “You’ll make me pay for my own food?”

Castiel was starting to find that in much of human society, certainly in America, so much of a life was a repeat. Though he had never been in the burger ‘joint’ that Dean had suggested to meet in, he felt strongly as though he might have already. They all looked a little the same, all these capitalised distributors of quickly produced food. Standing waiting in a McDonald’s for the first time had disturbingly made Castiel think on Naomi’s ‘re-training’, designed to produce angels able to give pinnacle, predictable performances. It was frightening to watch: to realise that even humanity favoured the ease and familiarity of mass-production over this interest of free will and individuality.

Hannah had not wanted him to come alone. After her last impression of Dean was one of him pointing a gun at Castiel’s head, he could not blame her, and almost wondered why he wasn’t more worried himself.

But he also remembered that Dean had decided not to shoot. Even feeling betrayed and frightened and lied to and desperate he had not tried to shoot. And on the understanding of that alone, Castiel was prepared to trust him. Or, at least, he trusted him enough not to try and hurt him in the middle of a public place when he could be enjoying food instead. Especially since Castiel was certain that Dean hadn’t eaten anything since before he’d met him in the bar for drinks the night before. A fact that shouldn’t trouble him, yet he knew what it meant now to lack for food, and he appreciated that it was far from pleasant.

He could also now appreciate how _awful_ it was to have someone you like, respect, suddenly lose all their regard for you – someone who mattered, reasonably or not, thinking less of you made you start thinking less of yourself. It was a deeply uncomfortable sensation.

It wasn’t that Castiel would have done anything different thus far – though he still hadn’t decided how he would deal with Naomi’s campaign, yet – but Dean made him feel regret even so.

It was ridiculous, he reminded himself firmly as he watched Dean walk through the door, raising his hands up slowly up to his head with a mocking smile. “So truce, huh?”

“I have brought no weapons with me.”

“Yeah, me too,” Dean said, glancing away. Castiel was certain that he was lying, but for some reason the thought didn’t worry him overtly.

A waitress in a garish red uniform approached them with a cheerful smile. “Table for two?”

“That’s right,” Dean answered, grinning, before Castiel could say anything. “My buddy here’s never had a burger before, I wanna make sure he knows what he’s been missing,” he told her, with a wink.

She looked a little flustered for a moment, before recovering herself and leading them over to a seat near the window. “You boys want anything to drink?” she asked them as they took their seats opposite one another.

Dean leaned back in his seat as far as he physically could and smiled widely up at her. “Get us a couple beers, could you sweetheart?”

Cas cleared his throat, drawing the waitress’ attention away from Dean. “Uh, actually, just a coffee for me would be better.”

Dean caught the waitress’ eye again and rolled his eyes melodramatically, making her laugh. “This one’s never any fun,” he confided in her.

“Alright then, so that’s one beer and one coffee, and I’ll be back in five for your orders,” she told them, the smile she was wearing threatening to split out all over her face as she walked away. Dean watched her do so, in what felt a very determined sort of fashion.

Castiel cleared his throat again. “So.”

Dean sighed loudly and leaned into the table. “ _So._ I want answers. You want me to… I dunno what you want – to give you the generous benefit of a doubt?”

“Is that so unreasonable a concept?”

“Look pal, I hunt monsters. If I can’t even manage to gank one living practically around the corner from me, then I ain’t much good as a hunter, am I?”

“We’re not monsters.”

Dean raised both eyebrows sceptically. “So then what are you? And this better sound convincing.”

“Or what?” Castiel asked him, unable to stop himself. “You’ll make me pay for my own food?”

Dean barely reacted. “Not exactly making your case yet, sunshine. Spill. So you’re angels. Tell me about that.”

“Read your Bible. We’re warriors of God.” Maybe it was Dean’s blatant flirting with the waitress a moment ago that was to blame, because having come here with every peaceable intention Castiel couldn’t stop himself from wanting to wind the other man up.

“You gonna give me a preaching bit? Go on. Gimme a direct quote from the big man upstairs.”

“I can’t.” Dean’s eyes narrowed and Castiel sighed. “No one’s seen him in thousands of years.”

And then the waitress was back. “One coffee,” she announced, laying it on the table in front of Castiel, then turned to flash Dean a large smile, “and one beer. Do you know what you wanna eat yet?”

“Oh, I think we both gotta have the special,” Dean answered smoothly. “I hear it’s uh, _divine._ ”

Castiel had to repress the strong urge to roll his eyes and settled with staring moodily back at Dean. “Alright then. Two specials?” she said with the hint of a question as she turned to Castiel, asking him if he wanted to choose to agree with Dean. He nodded, having not even glanced at the menu yet.

“Ok, so God’s run off. What does that make you guys then?”

Castiel pressed his lips together firmly. He wasn’t entirely certain what he’d come here to meet Dean for, but he was certain it didn’t involve an existential crisis. “Confused, to say the least,” he said eventually. “And argumentative.”

“So what’s this about an apocalypse?”

Castiel looked down and fiddled with his cutlery. “Some believe, the most eminent of us, that the time for God’s prediction of the world’s end is almost coming to pass. Eager to bring about the fruition of what they see as our Father’s plan, they assist, in their own way, the demon plans to release Lucifer from his cage and-”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa. First God, now the Devil? Slow down there, man.”

“I’m sorry the questions you ask have answers you’re not ready for, Dean. It’s incredible that I chose not to explain all of this on our first chance meeting.”

Dean’s face hardened. “Are you calling me an idiot?”

“No, I’m calling you narrow-minded to demand answers which you refuse to believe in. You display a deplorable lack of faith.”

“I don’t take things at face value. Keeps me alive,” Dean quipped, with a small smirk. “So. The demons and all…” he waved his hand about, “your lot, wanna let the devil out of his box. Then what happens – he destroys everything? And you guys want to see that.”

“Many angels simply want to see an end. We’ve been alive a long time, Dean,” Castiel told him, speaking more quietly. “If all the seals surrounding Lucifer’s cage are broken, which, if our estimates our correct, is a process they will not want to come overly quickly, seen as his true vessel is not yet of an appropriate age, he will be freed. And when that happens an ultimate battle will occur between him, and his brother, Michael, who rules Heaven. Most of the angel’s believe that this will result in Michael’s victory, and Heaven on Earth.”

Dean nodded slowly, as he took a swig of his beer. “But if Lucifer wins… right. Got it. Nuclear winter times. So what’s your deal?”

“Not all of us support these plans, this _destiny,_ Dean. Many of us believe that God’s favourite creation should be protected, not viewed as, at best, collateral damage.”

“Right, you say ‘many of us’, but last night you were all up blowing your own horn, saying that you _were_ this whole rebellion. So what. You’re their fearless Princess Leia?”

“I don’t understand that reference.”

Dean pouted his lips out ridiculously at that. It was meant to be humorous, Castiel was sure, but it only served in distracting him. Dean did have very nice lips, not that this had anything to do with anything…

“Course they wanna wipe out the human race, never even watched a goddamn movie before…” Dean muttered. “So you’re the head of this whole protest thing?”

“I was the first to resist the… retraining methods, for those who did not comply with Heaven’s line of thinking,” Castiel managed, trying very hard not to think on Naomi, and her hand-drill. “When I spoke to the other angels, they believed I had some sort of… some sort of plan.”

Dean stared at him, thoughtful now. “But you don’t, do you?”

Castiel tried to hold his gaze, but wasn’t able to. “It felt simple, at first. Spread the word of what they were planning, and why we should resist it…”

“Fight the Man.”

“…Right. But then things became more complicated. Things seemed to be slowing, and everywhere I went I was being hunted – but, back then, many of us were, at the same rate. But then finally, Raphael caught up with me. And…”

“And what?”

Strange, how it was still difficult to speak about. “And he killed me.”

Dean squinted his eyes. “I’m sorry, I don’t think I heard that right. A ninja turtle came and wasted you?”

Castiel allowed himself a small smile. “There were no turtles involved, Dean, so far as I’m aware. Raphael is an archangel. You asked me how it is that I am alone in this body, that there is no vessel’s soul tethered here. My vessel’s name was Jimmy, and when Raphael killed me, he killed us both. But when I was brought back… I was alone. And suddenly I was the only one the movement was focused on. I was being hunted even more fiercely, and… and I still had no useable plan.”

“So what – _God_ stepped in and brought you back?”

Castiel met the other man’s eyes again. “I hope so.”

Dean simply stared. “I was right the first time, this is so above my paygrade…”

“Dean, for the short, yet immediately foreseeable future, it is unsafe for Hannah and I to return to Heaven.” Dean looked down at his beer. “I can’t give you any answers regarding your mother, but if you let me talk to Anael, I may be able to help.”

“Anael?”

“The woman with you. You called her Anna.”

“Right, so she is another one of you fallen angel people. Why’d she do it?”

“I’m not sure,” Castiel admitted honestly. “We were… close, once. I thought I knew her well. But she had many doubts, and she dealt with them differently than I did. She was not sure that she wanted to stop Heaven, only that she no longer wished to be a part of it. So she tore out her grace and had herself reborn as a human child. A complicated procedure which must have left her with many strange habits, or memories, I imagine.”

Dean nodded. “You got that right at least. So Heaven ain’t such a bundle of laughs after all…” Dean started smirking at that. “Well, I probably wasn’t headed for upstairs anyway, so I guess that’s not such a blow. But look Cas, I guess… I guess I believe you on this stuff so far. I don’t trust you much, but I suppose I’m trusting you’ve been telling the truth. Hell I don’t think you’d really have chosen a dorky life as this if you were some sort of crazy old evil. But I still have the same three issues on my mind as were here when I walked in.”

“By all means, enlighten me.”

Dean held up three fingers, almost lazily. “I need a guarantee there isn’t a kid trapped in there with your little angel bodyguard, screaming and helpless for the rest of the uh, ‘forseeable future.’ Second,” he continued, before allowing Castiel to say anything, “I need to know that even if you don’t know where my Mom is, you’re going to do everything you can to help me find her. I _know_ you have time enough to kill, and according to your word, if the other angels have her, then they’re not on your team and you’ve got reasons to get her away from them same as me. Call it even for the lying to me thing.”

“I didn’t-”

“And _third,_ I need assurances that you don’t want anything to do with Sammy. That you don’t want to study him, that you’re not after him as part of some sort of bizarro mystical plot. Alright?”

“Alright…” Castiel answered hesitatingly. “Dean… Why kind of ‘mystical plot’ are you expecting to be starting around your brother?”

Dean shrugged, his mouth a thin, cold line once more. “I dunno, hotwings, you tell me.”

A strange staring contest commenced between them for a few moments and Castiel found himself dearly missing his, now missing, angel abilities to skim surface thoughts, so that he might have any understanding of Dean’s, now. “I’ve already told you this, but I will say it again for you. Sam was at my apartment last night because you asked me if he could stay there. As far as I am able to tell, he’s an ordinary, but intelligent, small boy, of limited cosmic significance, ‘bizarro’ or otherwise.”

Dean continued to hold his expression on for a little while longer before eventually letting himself relax a little. “So you didn’t just… I dunno, start talking to me to get to him?”

“No. I started talking to you because you were interesting. I find Sam charming as children go, but I have no wish to steal him away for my own purposes. Or if I had, I suppose I would have tried to do that some time before you handed him over to me.” Castiel imitated Dean’s shrug from earlier. “What is it about him I should have been so interested in?”

Dean’s face lit up in a faint mocking smile. “Right. Like I said, we’re not on trust terms yet.”

“On the contrary, I’ve told you everything I could have to tell you regarding my current highly secretive position. You have not been so forthcoming. If I am to help you locate your mother, Dean, and you have further pertinent information on your family -”

“I get it, alright? But we’re not exactly besties right about now, and Sammy’s important. I’m not just gonna-”

Castiel cocked his head to one side. “Then I imagine that the search for your mother will become more difficult for me.”

“Then make it simpler,” Dean growled, as Castiel felt himself sitting up in interest. That… that was a good smell.

“Two specials,” the waitress announced cheerfully as she laid the large plates of burgers down in front of them. You guys doing alright for everything else?”

“Oh, we’re doing just fine, thanks,” Dean assured her, looking up briefly, another of his winning smiles on his face.

Castiel wasn’t entirely sure when the burger had entered his hands. He didn’t remember picking it up, even. He kept, as a human, forgetting what the gnawing sensation in his stomach meant – that he was mortal, and the form sustaining him required fuel. But _this,_ he could already tell by the smell of it – it wasn’t going to be something he forgot about.

“So the kid. Talk about her,” Dean commanded as he took a bite of his own burger. Frustrated, Castiel lowered his own meal back onto its plate. “Hannah’s vessel needed help. When Hannah no longer requires her form, after regaining her grace – the part of her that allows for her… angelic essence – she can vacate the body, after leaving the girl somewhere safe.”

“Yeah, help. You said that before. But, y’know. Nothing says ‘help’ quite like a child’s mutilation.”

Castiel sighed. Living in a human perspective now, he could understand why the angelic one seemed so much harder to grasp. “Dean, angels can only take the form of the vessel families attached to them. For instance, I would have been able to take the form of my current vessel’s daughter, had she consented and Jimmy was unavailable.”

“So this was Hannah’s one choice and she drew the actual short straw.”

“It was not her only choice. The child had a mother who would have been suitable.” Castiel swallowed, he did not find remembering this, even when they were memories from his angelic life, at all easy. “But the mother… did not treat herself well. She was an addict, living with a… man, who did not treat her, but especially her daughter, with an dignity, or respect or kindness. Had Hannah taken the mother, she would have left the child alone and motherless with that monster, and still praying for the angels to come and save her. She acted not from logic, but emotion, of a kind.” It had been amazing, really.

“She coulda taken over the Mom, put the kid in a shelter and left.”

Castiel shook his head. “But this way Hannah can give the girl the healing she needed, both physically, and emotionally. Most importantly through the gift the child had been begging for.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yes. The ability to forget.”

*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this is taking kinda long, and that the chapter is pretty short for me - working on several odds and ends, not least exams and employment, and also odd bits of smut and a sequel short to OTRA - this kinda kept being pushed down priorities lists, but I feel like this chapter onwards is where I start being more committed as things pick up in terms of action etc :)


	7. Visiting Hours

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Do you still want him to be your boyfriend?”
> 
> Dean made a face. “How would that even work? He’s like, probably got feathers normally, it’d be like dating a giant ass bird.”

“Same again?”

Dean nodded, too tired to even say anything. Donny noticed. “Christ dude, you’re looking dead on your feet. I dunno if it’s even legal for me to get you done when you’re only half conscious.”

Dean rolled his eyes and sat himself down in the tattoo artists’ chair. “I’m short a couple hours – I’m not drunk. I want it on my arm this time,” Dean told him, patting his left bicep.

“Any bigger?”

“Nah, same again.”

Donny smiled slightly at him before starting to rake through his drawers. “I’m sure I’ve still got the template from last time around… What happened this time?”

Dean looked up sharply. “What d’you mean?”

Brandishing a folder, Donny raised an arm flippantly. “I dunno, man. You always want your ‘protection fix’ or whatever whenever you’re having a bad day – so what’s up?”

“I don’t-” Dean tried, but Donny held his eye. “Alright fine, the day was crappy. I got no sleep, and I found out a… a friend had been lying to me.”

“A friend, huh?”

“Yeah. Well – I thought we were. Now I dunno what we are.”

Dean didn’t even notice the pain of the needle going in anymore. Donny was right – he had been in a lot, the last few years. But yeah, every time something rattled him bad it was nice knowing that he had something, some new layer of armour between him and the demons out there. He kept most of them out of sight, so that if any demon trying to possess him happened to notice the obvious ones on his chest, or, now, his arm, then they’d be confused whenever they couldn’t get in even after they’d ripped that off. Most of them were hidden. One was under his hair – he’d had to half shave his head for that one – he had one on each foot, one on his inner thigh, and another one on his ass.

Sometimes he daydreamed about getting his whole body tattooed with little interlocking pentagrams. Then nothing would ever be able to get in again – not without skinning him alive.

He wondered if there was some symbol out there to keep the angels out.

Man, _angels._ And he’d thought he pretty much knew it all.

And he still didn’t know where his Mom was. Cas might finally be able to get him somewhere on that, but as of yet, they were still sitting with nothing.

And Cas had _said_ he didn’t know anything about Sam, but Dean still wasn’t all that sure about that. Too many damn coincidences.

Because when his Mom had left, she thought she’d got somewhere on figuring out Sam’s issue. She’d been so _excited_ at the thought that finally she was getting somewhere, that she was finally gonna get to clean up the mess Dean had made for them…

“You alright, buddy? You seem kinda out of it…”

“I’m good, Donny.”

*

Sam knew it annoyed Dean whenever he couldn’t stop asking questions, but this time he really couldn’t stop himself. _Angels_. Angels were real, just like his Mom had always told him to hope for, and alright, maybe they didn’t obviously have a whole lot of halos and wings to show, but they sure were interesting.

“So Hannah’s Dad… Hannah’s _friend?_ Is she still younger than him?”

Dean sighed and continued to watch the windscreen wipers on the car. “I don’t know, Sammy,” he said, in the same way he had for the last five questions.

“Right, well anyway – he’s gonna help you find Mom now, right?”

“So he says.”

“Do you think he’s telling the truth?”

Sam noticed Dean tighten his grip on the steering wheel. “I don’t know – I hope so. I’ll be honest, Sam - we ain’t exactly had a whole lot of luck looking down other avenues.”

Sam nodded, keeping quiet about his spell attempt. He almost had everything ready to try it – he didn’t think Dean would miss his old road map if it was for such a good cause, but he didn’t want to worry his brother in case something went wrong and it didn’t work.

“Dean,” Sam started again, as a new thought occurred to him. “Do you think…”

“What, Sammy?”

“If the bad angels took Mom then… is she in Heaven? Because I thought only dead people went there.”

“I don’t know what happened to Mom, Sam. But she’s not dead. Mom wouldn’t let that happen, you know that.” Dean smiled at him, though Sam was pretty sure it wasn’t a real smile. “Who else is gonna come back and make you mac and cheese?”

Sam played along and rolled his eyes. “Yeah. Yours isn’t any good.”

“You leave my cooking alone, you ungrateful baby.”

“You stop putting marshmallows in everything whenever you run out of ingredients.”

“I thought you liked marshmallows?”

“I do – but I don’t think they’re meant to be in pasta, Dean,” Sam told him, and laughed at the pained expression on his brother’s face.

Sam waited until they rounded into the hospital car park before he asked his last question. “Dean?”

“Yeah?”

“Do you still want him to be your boyfriend?”

Dean made a face. “How would that even work? He’s like, probably got _feathers_ normally, it’d be like dating a giant ass _bird_.”

Sam giggled as Dean parked the car. “But like, he’s not actually an angel right now, right?”

“…I guess.”

“So it’s ok at the moment, right?”

Dean snorted. “Alright, matchmaker. Out of the car. Anyway, what if God had something to say about that, come Judgement Day or whatever? That’d be a fun one to explain…”

“Mom says God likes all kinds of love,” Sam pointed out, as he obediently jumped out of the car.

“Well, he might just take exception to this. Cas has like, some kind of higher duty or some shit. And who said anything about love?”

Sam shrugged as they started walking over to the hospital. “You look at him all dopey like Ellen looks at Mom sometimes.”

Dean raised his eyebrows at him. “Dopey looks? That’s what you think love is? Man, kid…”

“Well what do you think it is?” Sam asked, a little defensively.

“I – I dunno, alright? Someone you wanna live with forever and you’re ready to die for, I guess.”

Sam wrinkled his nose uncertainly. “That sounds kinda melodramatic.”

“Where’d you go learning such a long word?”

“School. _Duh._ Where you go to _learn_.”

Dean messed up his hair roughly as they walked up to the reception desk. Sam always wished he was taller at desks like these, where he couldn’t see a thing by standing next to them, not even when he tried standing on his toes.

“…yeah, we’re looking for a Bobby Singer? Brought in last night…”

Bobby didn’t look so great – he looked almost as bad as their Mom had after that time when she’d had to go off and fight a whole nest of vampires all on her own. But at least Bobby was smiling. Or, he was after they’d finished with all the checking out with the holy water – Sam, meanwhile, was kinda disappointed he hadn’t remembered to bring his gun – since Dean said it was necessary “considering the circumstances.” They even had to check Sam, which was kind of exciting. Sam wondered if he’d even know if a demon was inside him, because Dean always said that demons could be real sneaky. But as it turned out, Jody and Bobby and him and Dean were all fine. On the whole possession side of things anyway. Bobby’s face really didn’t look all that great.

“You got Frankenstein stitching,” Sam noted as he took the corner seat by Bobby’s bed. “Does it hurt?”

“Nah. Face is alright, left leg’s pretty busted up though.’

Sam noticed Jody squirming at that. He guessed she didn’t like hearing about someone she loved being in pain. “How’s Anna?” she asked Dean. “She was such a little hero – seemed pretty shaken up when we left though…”

Dean crossed his arms over his chest. “Yeah. She’s doing fine. I left her over at Ellen’s.”

Bobby snorted. “You guys made peace then?”

“Well, she says she still thinks Dean’s being an idiot, but damn does she love that boy anyway,” Sam put in and made Bobby smile.

“Huh. Sounds like her. So while Anna and Sam were with Ellen, what were you off doing then, Dean?” His eyes narrowed as Dean dropped his. “Didn’t go chasing down any demons on your own, didja?”

“No. More like angels, actually.”

“Huh?”

“He means it,” Sam said gravely. “Though they don’t really have wings or anything at the moment – one of them’s only seven like me – she’s kinda my friend but she also kinda said she’d stab me last night – and the other one always wears this coat-”

“ _Stabbed_?” Jody asked quietly, and Sam’s eyes darted to Dean. Oh no. He’d said the wrong thing again, hadn’t he?

Bobby sat up in his bed a little. “Dean, what the hell happened last night?”

Dean sighed like he was really sad about it, but his eyes promised that Sam was in trouble for this later.

“What Sammy means, is that…” and then he went on and told them the whole story. Well, not the part about him trying to go out with the angel-guy, and he left out the part where he got really mad before they drove away again. But most of the story.

“…So Anna, and this guy? They’re kind of our first leads, like we hoped.”

Bobby laid his head back down on the pillow. “World keeps getting stranger,” he muttered. “Garth tried talking to me about this earlier – I should have taken it more seriously…”

“How’s he doing anyway? I might as well go see him while we’re over here…”

Jody smiled for the first time since they’d all said hello. “Oh, he got discharged and taken home.”

“Home? He doesn’t live anywhere near here…”

“Mmmhmm, exactly. Garth was generously taken back to the home of a lovely female friend.”

“When you say lovely…”

“Legs up to my waist.”

Dean shook his head, scowling. “I dunno how he does it. Doesn’t seem right…”

“Aw, I don’t know that you have the right to complain either, Winchester,” Jody told him. “You normally do alright when it comes to the women – and the men, if I’m hearing right from Ash.”

Dean froze, as Sam looked at the floor. At least _this_ one wasn’t his fault.

But Bobby was smiling as he looked up at Dean, who was shuffling about looking like he was trying to find something to shout. “What, you think we’d be shocked after knowing Ellen and your Mom as long as we have? C’mon, Dean. I’m not your Dad.”

Nobody said anything for a few moments after that in a really awkward kind of way. Sam wanted to remind the room about how his Dad was a hero, but he kept his mouth shut, because he knew there were times when Dean didn’t like to talk about him, and he figured this might be one of those times.

“Yeah, well,” Dean said eventually. “No biggie. Ash is still dead though.”

“I don’t blame you for that. So what was this he was saying about a guy that’s been on your mind…”

Dean actually laughed at that. “Huh. Well, funny story that…”

Jody stared at him, wide-eyed. “Oh my God, you were hitting on the angel, weren’t you?”

“ _No_.” Dean shifted about and looked at his feet. “Well… yeah. But I don’t think it was working, so I don’t think it actually counts.”

Jody snorted. “This is the best thing I’ve heard all week…”

“It’s not funny, alright?”

Bobby made a face. “It’s a bit funny.”

Dean rolled his eyes and waved his arms about at that. “Right. No more talking about me. So did the demon try and take anything from the house?”

Jody thought for a moment before shaking her head. “No. It was just there for Anna. If it’s true that she’s been a fallen angel all this time, I guess that makes some sense.”

“I’m just glad they didn’t think to try and make off with any of the books,” Bobby grunted, and Sam tried to keep his face very still. “Some of those things could do some real damage in the wrong hands.”

“Hey Bobby, I made you a card,” Sam blurted, unable to stand it any longer. It was bad to steal, he knew that, but he was pretty sure he wasn’t the ‘wrong hands’ Bobby was talking about. And anyway, he hadn’t stolen the books: he was _borrowing_ them.

Bobby smiled, to Sam’s relief. “Alright, let’s see this card.”

“Uh, Jody,” Dean put in as Sam started rummaging around in his bag, “can I uh, talk to you outside for a minute?”

She nodded, looking like he was doing her a big favour. “I’ll see your card when I get back, Sam,” she told him as he finally got his hands out and pulled it out to show Bobby.

“Hey, you’re getting pretty good at these fancy letters now, boy. ‘Get Well Soon’. It’s to the point, I like that,” he commented and Sam grinned.

“So who are all these people on the card?”

“Can’t you tell?” Sam sighed heavily and started pointing at the figures he’d drawn in crayon that morning. “It’s all of us – our family. That’s Mom, and she’s holding Aunt Ellen’s hand. That’s Jo next to her…”

“I don’t remember Jo being that short, but I take your meaning. You did her hair nice.”

Sam nodded. “Yeah. Well that’s Ash next to her, and he’s also kinda small, cause he’s kinda still a kid too. That’s you-”

“In the eyepatch?”

Sam shrugged defensively. “I didn’t know _where_ you got hurt, so I had to imagine. ‘Sides. Now you look like a pirate. Then that’s Jody holding your hand, and then that’s Dean, and then there’s me, and I’m the smallest one,”

“Right, I see that. So who’s next to you?”

“That’s my dog, Riot.”

Bobby narrowed his eyes. “How long was I asleep really? ‘Cause last time I saw you, I’m pretty sure you didn’t have a dog.”

“Yeah, but that doesn’t mean I’m not _gonna._ The picture’s happening when Mom comes home, and she gets us a dog because she feels bad about being away so long. And dogs know when bad things are around – it’ll be like having an extra alarm for ghosts and stuff.”

Bobby smiled, but not as wide as he had before. “Sam, y’know… there’s a chance we might not be able to find your Mom.”

“That’s ok. She’ll find us. She always does.”

Bobby nodded. “I know that. If she’s still able to do it, she’ll always come home to you, but… but if she’s not…”

Sam met his eyes. “My Mom’s _fine._ Dean told me so, and Dean always… he always knows what’s right.”

Bobby sighed again. “…right.”

Sam stood there awkwardly for a moment before sitting down on his chair again, and listened to Dean talk to Jody. She sounded pretty upset.

“…how are you ever ok after it?” she was asking. “How do you ever deal with… with…”

Sam heard Dean sigh. “Look Jody, I ain’t exactly a role model in how to, uh, ‘deal’. Hell, if there’s a right way to deal with it then I definitely haven’t found it. Mostly there’s denial, and there’s early alcoholism. But you start feeling a bit better from the tattoo. I used to have that amulet Sammy has now but I still drew the symbols on with a marker whenever I was too young for the real thing… it felt more proactive, y’know. But the main thing is… Bobby’s alright. And he’s gonna be there to tell you every time you wake up from a nightmare that it ain’t your fault.”

“Even if he’s lying.”

“Yeah. Even then. Take it in baby steps. You’ll be alright.”

Neither of them spoke for a moment. Then Sam heard Jody say, “you’re a good kid, y’know that, Dean?”

“So my Mom likes to tell me.”

*

Castiel was taking a few well-needed hours rest when Dean’s text came in, and he was suddenly filled with relief that Hannah wasn’t there to see his reaction. Because considering it was waking him up in the middle of the night, he was almost pathetically perked up when he saw who the message was from. Pathetic, because clearly at best Dean warily had decided not to try and kill him, and unlike Hannah, Castiel couldn’t bring himself to hold it against him.

**RECEIVED: _I’m hoping here that you didn’t just take your holy freakshow on the road like I told you not to, and that you can tell me when you can meet tomorrow. We need to talk._**

Castiel processed the message blearily, yet with some amusement. So Dean had thought he might run, despite his promises. Admittedly, this was exactly what Hannah had expected they’d be doing. But despite everything, Castiel would like to believe that Dean wasn’t really a threat to him. He hadn’t killed him when he’d had the chance, and he genuinely seemed to have a good case arranged as to why they should work together on locating his mother. If… Anna was right and it was their own kind which had been involved in her disappearance it was surely in Castiel’s best interest to find out as much as he could of his enemies – or potential allies’ – actions and motivations.

And besides, Castiel had done enough running.

**SENT: _I keep to my word. You seem hurried. We only recently finished talking._**

Dean’s reply was almost immediate.

**RECEIVED: _You got better things to do?_**

**SENT: _I am trying to fight a war._**

Castiel wasn’t sure what made him reluctant to admit that he would be free to meet Dean. It may be because he didn’t like the man’s tone, or it may have something more to do with wanting to prolong their conversation.

**RECEIVED: _And yet still you find the time for drinks with me. Really, Cas, I’m touched._**

Castiel snorted at that, but the question prayed on him nonetheless. Why had he spent so much time with Dean before? Company wasn’t necessarily something he’d needed, he’d just… sought it anyway. Strange, thinking of it. Because it wasn’t even that he’d sought _company_ , he’d sought to spend more time with Dean.

**SENT: _I could be free in the afternoon. Where would you like to meet?_**

**RECEIVED: _I knew you weren’t the mornings type. Meet me in the bar we were in last time then._**

**SENT: _Is alcohol always a necessary addition for you?_**

**RECEIVED: _In dealing with this crap? Yes. It’s a necessary lubricant._**

Just as Castiel finished reading the message and was wondering how to respond to it, it was followed by another text from Dean.

**RECEIVED: _Not the fun kind_**

**SENT: _And I assume the *fun* kind is also something you need to acquaint me with?_**

Castiel glanced around his bedroom after sending the text, worried, absurdly that Hannah might be aware of what he’d just written. It maybe hadn’t been the most appropriate of responses.

It might even imply to Dean that he was trying to engage in some kind of flirtation.

Which, obviously, he couldn’t be. He was simply amusing himself by attempting to get a reaction out of the young hunter, and to imagine what that might be: whether it would confuse Dean; make him laugh, perhaps.

Maybe that _was_ “flirting”.

Should that bother him? Technically, he had already rebelled against heaven. He wasn’t even supposed have met Dean in the first place. Surely pursuing anything more than friendship with him would be no more forbidden than anything else he was doing.

Dean was certainly taking his time in answering this…

**RECEIVED: _You’d be so lucky. So I’ll talk to Anna tonight and you can meet me there at 4_**

**SENT: _I thought I was picking the meeting time_**

**RECEIVED: _Well pick a time faster next time._**

In response, Castiel sent Dean an emoticon which looked as though it would be grumpy and displeased looking. He and Hannah had delightedly begun using all of these picture messages – it was wonderful, upon finding such a wonderful new reserve of emotions within themselves to have almost a new form of language available to express them.

**RECEIVED: _And now you need to slow down again._**

For a moment, Castiel was confused, but then he looked back up at the emoticon he’d been so proud of. It wasn’t so much a grumpy face as it had looked in punctuation. It was in fact a little face which seemed to be pursing its lips less in irritation and more in the hope of a kiss. He’d sent Dean a message implying that he would like to kiss him.

Well, admittedly in theory the thought of Dean’s lips closing in on his wasn’t an altogether unpleasant one…

**SENT: _Apologies. I did not intend to send that particular face._**

**RECEIVED: _No judgements here._**

**SENT: _I DIDN’T_**

**RECEIVED: _Sure you didn’t. Don’t worry buddy, I won’t tell on you to God or whatever. Proud atheist here._**

**SENT: _Atheist? After meeting_ _with his angels?_**

**RECEIVED: _No offence man but you’ve not exactly been all that impressive as of yet. I mean do you even count?_**

Castiel wondered briefly whether or not he should feel more offended than he did as he finished reading Dean’s text and got back under his bedcovers.

**SENT: _Impressive or not, there is a large gap between lack of faith and belligerent stupidity_**

**RECEIVED: _Oh we’re onto the intelligence jokes? Stellar job of convincing me you’re a friend._**

**SENT: _Well I hope we still can be. Friends._**

Castiel was almost asleep, still clutching onto his phone when Dean eventually replied.

**RECEIVED: _Yeah_**

Just a “Yeah” – nothing more than that. And yet Castiel had desperately needed to hear it anyway, some confirmation that by not telling Dean who he was, that by Dean’s hasty assumptions and aggressive actions, that everything that had been between them was ruined. And even when his phone screen darkened Castiel still lay awake, smiling up at his ceiling.

*****


	8. Date Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “We still have a lot to teach you about being human, huh Cas?”
> 
> “I am… learning.”

“What do they mean by that, that they plan on getting ‘wasted’ from the drink – that doesn’t sound like a positive aim for the night,” Cas commented as they listened to the loud roars of the men crowding the bar. Students, Dean assessed. They seemed like the type. And he’d almost finished that degree… huh. He’d have finished that degree by now. If he’d stuck.

Funny, Dean had never really believed he’d make it all the way through a dumb college course – he’d never felt smart enough… and more he’d never really felt young enough for it. It felt like everyone on his course had been so much more painfully alive and yeah, young. They were all so smart and none of them knew a damn thing about the real things out to get them, even there.

“Dean?”

Dean cleared his throat and turned to regard the group of guys he’d decided were students, Cas’ voice dragging him out of his thoughts. “Right. See them? They look happy, they’re putting on a real good show of it. But the only reason they’re drinking is so they get to be not themselves for a while, and then they don’t need to think about the fact that they’ve got a job someplace they hate, or that they’re not even attracted to the girlfriend they worked so hard to get or how much they don’t even like beer.” Dean raised his own beer bottle and grinned back at Cas. “Cheers.”

Cas raised an eyebrow. “You’re cheerful tonight,” he noted.

Dean rolled his eyes. “Don’t mean to ruin the _mood_ or anything, but goddamn it Cas, it’s been weeks. And still nothing?”

Cas cocked his head slightly to one side and leant in a little closer. At some point over the last few ‘meetings’ they’d been having over beers in the same little bar Dean had become ok with that – the whole non-respect for personal space thing. He wouldn’t stretch to anything by claiming he totally trusted the guy or whatever, but… yeah. He trusted him enough not to let his hand fumble for the handle of his gun the moment the guy moved towards him.

And considering the dude in question was a pretty unknown quantity of supernatural weirdness? That was pretty high on the trust levels for Dean.

“I’m sorry, Dean,” he said, sounding genuinely sorry. But then he’d sounded pretty damn genuine when he was talking about missing his non-existent dead wife, too. “I did hope Balthazar would know something when he visited again. But it was difficult to force him to speak of anything other than Naomi’s campaign…”

“Hard to keep the troops’ respect when you can’t fly anymore, huh?”

Cas shook his head in apparent exasperation, but Dean was watching his mouth  - alright, like he usually was – and he could read the little smile he was trying not to let start there. On the scale of Castiel emotions, Dean had basically just made him roar with laughter. And it was probably because of the beers, but that felt stupidly good to know. Like even if he was a shit excuse for a son and a hunter he wasn’t such a bad date.

Not that this was ar date. No way. It was another one of their meetings… where they’d at least _try_ to talk about business before anything else.

With that in mind, Dean ploughed on to say, “So - this Naomi. Talk me through her endgame again.”

Cas sighed heavily and put down his drink with a steady thump. “She’s a talented leader, who has now also come out in dissent against the heavenly plans to let the apocalypse come to pass. Many would say more so than me. She has not tried to flee heaven – like Zachariah, she still has too much power. And Michael still has not deigned to become involve. I’m beginning to think he simply doesn’t care – that maybe he doesn’t want to fight Lucifer, but will prepare for it as his duty if circumstance demands it,” Cas mused.

“So what’s stopping you from just angel-ing up again and joining up with the mainstream rebels?”

“Hannah and myself have been warned into rushing into a decision,” Cas started carefully before Dean interrupted him.

“You just really don’t like this Naomi chick, do you?”

Cas held his gaze for what felt an intimidatingly long time and for a moment Dean almost forgot the guy was currently human.

It was kinda all sorts of hot.

Eventually Cas looked away. “When I started all this, I didn’t just want to stop the apocalypse. I wanted to see a Heaven which wasn’t so based on… on bureaucracy. On cruelty and control. She represents all that was wrong with the old Heaven, and I feel the only reason that she opposes the Apocalypse’s arrival is that it would certainly force change in her small empire,” Cas finished, a touch bitterly.

“So she’s like the counter-revolution.”

Cas blinked at him in slight surprise as Dean shrugged. “…Yes. I suppose she is. So although she holds out an apparent hand of friendship to me now, I can’t bring myself to – I’m trying to think of something better. Some other way.”

Dean finished his drink. “So what did she do to you? Not to your Heaven or whatever, what’d she do to _you,_ man? I know that look.  You’d rip her lungs out if she gave you a split second reason.”

Cas glanced at him uneasily. “When I say Heaven was based on control,” he started eventually, “I meant it. She learned how to literally keep us all finely tuned at the most basic level… to… to perform at a standard she believed appropriate. More like machines than anything else.”

“But you broke that.”

“No, I’d done that before, as had many others. And all were either recalibrated, or they were dealt with. No, I escaped, and got other angels on my side before she was able to take me back.”

Cas looked at him properly again. “I haven’t beaten her yet. And now if I have to join her to prevent a greater evil…”

“You’d save the world but you don’t know if you could live with yourself,” Dean finished for him, figuring he might be able to understand something of what the other guy was feeling. “Got it. So what do you think about us getting something stronger over here?”

*

Sam looked out at the map again and breathed out slowly. He was sure – _pretty sure_ \- his Mom wouldn’t have left the country. She’d always said she’d like to travel off to some other continent, and sometimes she’d sit with Sam and the family atlas and they’d point at all of the places they’d like to try going to someday. Because his Mom had always said she’d never left America, and that if she ever went anywhere new, Sam would be coming with her.

So Sam couldn’t let himself imagine she’d be anywhere else but on a map of the United States. Not without him.

Besides, he wasn’t sure the spell would work on his toy globe. It didn’t look like it would be all that easy to set on fire, for one thing. And Dean would _definitely_ notice if that disappeared and then he’d get really mad. And maybe Jo, downstairs with the TV on now, would even notice and come running.

But not if this worked. If this worked and Sam found their Mom, everyone would be so proud of him. Everything would be alright again: Dean wouldn’t be so stressed out all the time and Sam would have someone there to sing him to sleep and tuck him in properly at night. He hadn’t wanted to mention it to Dean – he’d wanted to be brave, just like his brother.

Brave, right.

“It’s alright to be scared,” he reminded himself as he lit the match. “It’s what you do after that that counts.”

*

“So why go human?”

Castiel shrugged his shoulders lazily as he walked along the street next to Dean. It was strange how alcohol made you feel less connected to your body. Considering it wasn’t yet a body he felt fully confident in inhabiting, the feeling wasn’t altogether unpleasant.

“Cut off from Heaven as we were, our graces would have begun losing power anyway. This way, after we had our vessels’ ribs carved-”

“Woaw, woah. _Ribs_?”

“Yes. With sigils, preventing the other angels from- What is so funny?”

Dean continued to laugh, even making as though to wipe a tea from his eye. “Nothing, man. Just you… and you carved into your own _ribs_.”

“Before removing our graces. Yes. I still don’t understand-”

“Neither do I, buddy,” Dean announced, roughly throwing an arm around Castiel’s shoulder. The weight of it, along with the “Buddy” was strangely pleasing.

“So how are you finding it all, anyway?”

“Finding what?”

“Oh, y’know – _humanity._ Must be a bit of a shock to the system, right?”

Castiel squinted his eyes as he thought. “It’s… more surprising than I thought it would be. I enjoy food, but _having_ to eat is… strange. And the waste disposal of it is…”

And suddenly Dean was bowled over laughing again, dragging Castiel down with him. It was suddenly seeming like an infinitely sensible idea that they hadn’t tried to drive themselves home.

When Dean found his voice again, he had more questions. “But like… what about other stuff.”

“Other stuff?”

“I dunno, man, like how d’you find getting yourself off?”

Castiel felt blood rise to his cheeks. He was almost certain that this wasn’t usually an acceptable point of conversation. “I’m not sure what you mean.”

“Oh like hell you don’t, you paused for way too long there not to know what I mean. Did you have to work it out on your own?”

Castiel felt his eyes darting away. “I really don’t think-”

Dean cut in front of him and started walking backwards. “Oh I’m sorry, hotwings, am I making you uncomfortable?”

“Dean-”

Dean stopped moving and let Castiel almost walk right into him. “How about now?” he asked, his voice seeming much lower than it had even a moment ago. The sound was oddly affecting. And for some reason it made it almost impossible for Castiel to draw his eyes away from Dean’s face – and his lips in particular. Which now Dean was licking.

Humans did that all the time, obviously. It was necessary to keep the lips clean and hydrated.

It was just that Dean was making that hard to remember.

“We still have a lot to teach you about being human, huh Cas?”

“I am… learning. I think,” he added uncertainly, because suddenly the laughter gleaming in Dean’s eyes was making him doubt that he’d learnt anything of note ever in his entire existence.

“You sure about that, Cas?”

 _No_ , his brain was screaming back at Dean. _I’m not sure about anything, not about how the alcohol is affecting me, not about_ _what I’m supposed to do about Heaven when so many are depending on me and especially not now that you’re looking at me like… and I don’t know what I’m supposed to_ do _and I don’t know what’s_ right _anymore but I know that I want_ more _I want…_

He wasn’t certain, thinking back, who had grabbed the other first, but suddenly their hands were scrambling all over the other’s body, desperate for… something, as their lips moulded hungrily together in a way that felt almost violent. Chaotic, even. And though he was already tempted to explain this to himself later as being the fault of the alcohol he’d consumed, Castiel knew as he started raking his fingers up through Dean’s hair, felt Dean’s teeth snag and linger on his bottom lip, that this wasn’t something he couldn’t claim he hadn’t wanted wholeheartedly.

It was one of those moments when Castiel felt as though his heart had stopped for a moment as Dean pulled away from him, their eyes still glued together as Dean’s mouth quirked up into a grin.

“Y’know, Cas. That’s something we need to work on. Kissing skills, they’re a, uh, a pretty basic human thing to learn.”

Castiel wasn’t going to allow himself to feel offended. He wondered if he should pull his coat back on to his shoulder where it had slipped. He already felt exposed enough. “That wasn’t… good?” he asked eventually, hoping he had _any_ of the commanding tone to his voice that he’d once felt so certain of.

Dean choked out a laugh. “Good? Uh, Cas that was uh… _awesome_. I mean… not bad for a first time.” Dean coughed and looked at the ground. “That – that was your first… right?”

“Kiss?”

“Yeah.”

“Then yes.” Castiel narrowed his eyes. “Does that hold some significance for you?”

“What? No, Cas, I just…” Dean started to smile again. “I just wanted to let you know, most times people kiss – first times or otherwise…” Dean had walked closer to him again. “See what we do is we close our eyes.”

“Like a trust exercise?”

Dean looked at him a little gormlessly for a few moments. “Yeah, whatever. Just… give it a try. Trust me, right?”

Dean’s fingers were on his chin. And Castiel knew he should leave, he should tell Dean…

“Alright…”

And he closed his eyes.

*

The kiss was softer this time, gentler. Dean wasn’t sure why that was important to him, why he wanted that so bad but… hell, he’d spent a lot of time forcing Cas in the doghouse. And in the end, the guy was just as freaked out as he was about the responsibilities lugged on his shoulders, and from the sounds of it, was basically a goddamn angelic hero.

An angel. He was kissing an _angel._

And now he could believe it, now he was sliding a hand round Cas’ waist, letting the other man’s tongue slide into his mouth.

“Dean,” Cas breathed in his ear, but Dean didn’t let him pause. They were having a moment, and Dean hadn’t had so much to drink that he wasn’t aware that it was probably getting ruined any minute now. So he wanted to save this.

Besides, they were almost back at the house already. Dean had got himself walked home safely.

He was dimly aware of Cas trying to murmur something as he started planting kisses all down his neck.

“…Like fire,” the angel, angel-man was saying.

“Well thanks, honey,” Dean smirked, pulling off and meeting Cas’ eyes again. But those blue eyes were too solemn, too… worried.

“No, Dean, it smells like fire. Like… Dean, that’s definitely smoke.”

Dean stood up a little straighter and sniffed the air. Huh, that _was_ fire. Kinda late for a bonfire…

Then he looked up, feeling something drop like lead in his chest as he scanned his eyes along the row of houses. That was _his_ home with smoke billowing out of the upstairs window.

*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uh, so, slight time difference for a chapter which (as usual) was not completed on schedule. But I can say now pretty definitely – exam’s finally over, yaaaay - that I’m always going to posting by the weekend. Unless something weird occurs and screws with my nice scheduling plans.  
> Thanks again to everyone saying they'e enjoying the story so far, it means a lot! :D


	9. Funfair

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Castiel did not have time to wonder if he’d done something wrong or inappropriate – now the air had all been forced out of his lungs – now, he thought with a smile as he listened to Dean’s screaming, now he was flying.

_It was worse than it normally was. The flames just kept on raging in Sammy’s bedroom like Dean was standing in the deepest pit of Hell. Or like he’d brought them with him._

_Dean loved it._

_He could smell the roasting flesh – and there was nothing better, to breathe in that smoke, and know that it wasn’t able to harm him. That while others would scream, would perish, he would only thrive._

_Yet even as he stood there in the centre of it all, some small part of Dean recognised the scene as_ wrong. _This was the part where the avenging angel would walk through the door, and change it all, send him crashing back into reality and guilt, her blonde hair billowing out behind her, her eyes full of a wholly different fire._

_But she wasn’t there this time. This time she was gone._

_Instead there was Sam – not the baby, squirming and crying out as he felt the dripping of the warm blood in his mouth – the boy, and his eyes were black, and his mouth was turned up in a wide grin._

_And Dean looked down at him and_ he woke up, gasping desperately for air as he sat up in bed. A dream, a dream, a dream, just the old nightmare turned a little on its head, he reminded himself relentlessly even as he got out of bed and wandered along the hall to Sammy’s room.  Only when he saw the small, sleeping form did he let himself breathe properly, to relax. Sam was alright. He was fine. He was alive. And assumedly still as human as he’d been when Dean had put him to bed. Dean hadn’t failed.

Dean looked in the mirror in the hall as he backed out of the bedroom, checking himself over. His eyes were normal - they were human eyes - and that’s all they’d ever be, so long as he kept his wits about him and his tattoos stayed all intact. Maybe, he thought as he fingered his new one, maybe he’d go and see Donny about another one sometime this week. Maybe that would help keep the nightmares down to a minimum – real, painful proof that couldn’t be argued with that he was safe, that no one was ever taking his body away from him to use against the ones he loved. Not again.

Dean checked the clock above him as he started wandering back towards his bedroom. Too early to be getting up, yet, though, since he’d been sleeping in his clothes again lately, it probably wouldn’t matter much.

Not too early for a drink though, he thought with a little smile as he climbed back into his bed, laying his head back on the headboard and reaching for the bottle of whiskey he’d found in the cupboards the night before. God, how he’d used to hate the sight of a whiskey bottle. Whenever he used to see one, growing up, that always meant his parents would be fighting by the evening. Fighting about how his Dad was pushing Dean too hard, fighting about his Mom’s cousins turning up and announcing they were staying the week, fighting over the bills, the housework. The drinking.

Now Dean was all grown up – the _only_ grown up left – and he was starting to realise how easy it was to get over his hate for the drink when he was drinking too much to care what he was drinking.

Yeah, only grown-up left.

“She’s dead,” Sam had sobbed at him the moment he’d been able to draw a breath from all the apologies. They’d managed to get the fire out, they’d saved most of the bed, and Jo was trying to figure out how she was meant to be looking at the drunk not-angel in the living room, how to talk to Dean about the fire started on her watch.

Dean had shaken his brother’s shoulders, a little too rough, maybe, but nothing his Dad wouldn’t have done trying to get Dean to meet his eye. “What? Who the fuck is dead, Sammy, what did you do?”

“Dean,” Jo breathed, probably shocked at his tone, his words. He usually tried so hard to be the good guy around his little brother. But then usually he wasn’t coming home to finding fire in the house, fire that from the outside looking in, had seemed just like his nightmares. Finding Sam in the middle of it all. Again.

And again, it wasn’t Sam’s fault, it wouldn’t be his fault.

And though Sam wouldn’t stop crying, he did manage to look at Dean, seeming to take all this as his due. That was the worst part.

“I was… I wanted to help, Dean…”

“Yeah, well that looks like it worked out just great, Sammy. What happened?”

He was trying to soften his voice, he was trying. And even more than he was aware of Jo, he could feel Cas looking at him. With sympathy? Maybe. It had been Cas who’d had the thought to follow him upstairs, a bucket of water in tow. Dean had just stormed up there, all tunnel vision, no thought about what to do with the fire. Years of training and he hadn’t even had the presence of mind to think of bringing up something to put out a fire. Lucky Jo had already got Sam out or Dean probably would have managed to screw that up too.

“I tried a – a location spell. It was in one of Bobby’s books…”

“You stole from Bobby?”

“I borrowed it! I did, I was gonna bring it right back, I swear, Dean. It – it’s supposed to find people on a map…”

Dean had felt himself freeze a little, dimly aware of his grip tightening around his brother’s arms. “Mom. You were looking for Mom.”

Sam nodded. “I just… But I couldn’t… The map just burned up – it didn’t find her. She’s not in America, Dean – and I dunno if she’s anywhere… She should be somewhere – she has to be somewhere…” He was looking up at Dean like he was supposed to have the answers for them. But all Dean had now was even more worry, a wet, singed bed and a rage that he couldn’t even understand, but it was so bad he was almost shaking.

Eventually he’d let go out of Sam, told Jo to head home, asking her quietly to downplay the whole thing to her Mom. Cas had already left, without saying anything. Nice of the guy. And they’d had a whole moment out there on the street too. A hot moment, a moment that had almost made him forget about his fucking problems for five minutes.

He hadn’t kissed many guys before, and every time there was something about feeling that stubble against his chin that gave Dean this extra thrill he’d always found in the small rebellions his Dad had never known about. His playing card collection for instance. But he’d stopped most of those ‘rebellions’ after his Dad’s death. It felt _wrong_ having any of those frowned on actions, things around to enjoy without his Dad around to say no to them. Which is probably why the whole ‘Bi’ thing had turned up so late in the game. He could feel his Dad’s likely disapproval from the grave and it wasn’t fun to piss him off a little now, it just got him feeling guilty.

But today was the day they were going out on a daytrip date together, and Dean would be lying if he told himself that he wouldn’t be looking for a repeat performance of the other night. Not that they were probably going to have a whole lot of chance for anything like that. They were being chaperoned by just about everyone they both knew after all.

It had been Sam’s idea, and much as part of Dean still wanted to give him a hard time, he also wanted to cut the kid some slack. He was sleeping on a load of cushions in a sleeping bag, and he thought that his Mom was dead. If Sam wanted to go to a fun fair then they were damn well going to one. And it was a good a place as any for this ‘neutral ground’ Cas said that Hannah had wanted after Bobby, feeling fit and back on his feet again, was insisting on meeting these ex-angel people and finding out more about them at the same time as they were finally being given their chance to speak with Anna. And now it had turned into a friggin’ gigantic outing thing after Ellen and Jo and Ash had insisted on tagging along.

It was as though Cas could hear him thinking about him, because Dean had barely had a chance to take a drink after sitting back down on his bed before the ex-angel was texting him. Maybe he still kept up some weird angel powers and he actually _could_ tell when Dean was thinking of him. Huh. That could be awkward…

**RECEIVED _: What would be appropriate clothing to wear today?_**

Dean snorted as he read the message, and as he started punching out a scathing reply he couldn’t stop a grin from spreading over his face. Sure, his Mom was still MIA, Sam was starting to worry him, and he still didn’t know if he was supposed to have sold his old college books by now, but a cute guy – whatever he’d been before – wanted to talk to him, and it felt good having something about the day to look forwards to.

*

It was a good thing Sam really was enjoying himself, because he knew going in that day that it was his _job_ to make Dean believe he was. Dean had been really worried about him (maybe even _of_ him, but Sam wasn’t sure he liked thinking about it like that, so he tried not to) ever since his spell had gone wrong and burnt up some of his bed. Though, really, it wasn’t that it had gone _wrong_ exactly – Sam was still pretty sure it had worked… but it hadn’t shown him what he wanted to see.

Maybe their Mom had left the country. Maybe someone had kidnapped her there – but once they found out where she was they could go rescue her. Because Sam was still pretty sure she’d never have left them _on purpose._

“What d’you think boy, too scary?” Bobby asked him, laying a large hand on Sam’s shoulder. Sam regarded the rollercoaster with a grin, his hair flopping away from his eyes as he looked up. He was only _just_ tall enough to ride. Hannah wasn’t, and that felt great. It wasn’t that Sam was holding a grudge or anything but she _had_ threatened to kill him not long ago.

“Nope,” Sam told Bobby firmly. “Bring it on.”

Dean had got the book back to Bobby without telling him what Sam had been doing with it, and Sam had never been so grateful to know his older brother had his back, and that however mad he got at Sam, he wouldn’t tell on him to the grownups. That was pretty cool.

Sam watched his brother now look up at the giant structure too. “Huh. You sure, Sammy? I don’t mind waiting down here with you while the others give it a go…”

Jo elbowed him hard in the ribs to stop him from finishing. “Don’t be such a giant wuss, Winchester. Don’t you think that if your seven year old brother’s brave enough to get on that thing then you should be too?”

Dean huffed and crossed his arms. Dean noticed Hannah’s not-Dad, Cas, that was his name, looking at Dean with a little smile on his face as he said. “Bravery, huh. Try more like stupidity.”

“Do heights make you nervous, Dean?” Cas asked him. Bobby was giving him a wary look for that. Sam knew that _technically_ they were all there to try sussing each other out, and Bobby didn’t trust easily.

Dean snorted and looked down at the ground. “Not _nervous._ It’s just not right, being all,” he waved a hand around, vaguely gesturing towards the rollercoaster, “up there,” he finished, lamely. “I dunno about you guys but humans: we’re meant to keep out feet on the ground. Like, firmly on the ground,” he added, pointing down at his shoes. Sam started laughing, but put his sleeve up to his face so that Dean wouldn’t see.

Cas frowned.  “Actually, almost as soon as the ape began to develop as a species-”

“So how old _are_ you, man?” Ash leaned back and asked, shielding his eyes from the sun.

“Well, if you’re asking how long I’ve _been_ a _man-_ ”

“Very old,” Hannah interrupted, sounding moody. Sam figured she was just mad about not being allowed on the ride.

“But you’re coming on the ride with me though – right, Dean?” Sam couldn’t hold back his laugh this time as his older brother swallowed, not taking his eyes off of the rollercoaster. Because Dean always did this sort of thing – acted up to make Sam laugh. Because there was no way Dean was _actually_ that scared. He was an invincible demon hunter and nothing frightened him.

“Uh…”

“Course he is,” Jo answered for him, pushing Dean forwards with her as she started walking towards the queue. He didn’t look happy about it, but he allowed himself to be moved along with Ash and Jody. Sam made to follow them, then looked back to ask Bobby, “You coming?”

Bobby shook his head. “Lucky for me, I’m still too banged about to be fooling around on a damn thing like that. But you go, kid. Me and Ellen’ll wait down here with your… new friends.”

Sam noticed Hannah rolled her eyes at that one, and Anna stand a little closer towards Hannah. “I’ll stay too,” she announced.

Cas was nodding, but he was still looking at Dean’s retreating back, mouth hanging slightly open. Anna smiled at him strangely. “But I think Castiel would like to try the ride, Sam.”

Castiel – was that still Cas? Sam figured it was, and didn’t think twice about taking Anna at her word and grabbing onto his arm.

“Sam I really don’t see the purpose of-”

“You were an angel, right?” Sam asked, as he rushed them along to catch up to Dean and the others.

“Yes-”

“So I bet you miss flying, right? I think that’s what I’d miss the most.”

He watched Cas open and close his mouth a few times, trying to speak. “I do,” he eventually said.

“So rollercoasters are like flying,” Sam finished, shrugging as they moved to stand in line. “It’s _fun._ ”

When he looked back up at Cas he was glad to see that he was smiling, but then he realised that that may have more to do with the fact that Cas was looking at Dean who’d only just noticed that he was there.

*

“No, Sam, you come with me, I’ll be much more fun than Dean up there I’m wagering,” Castiel heard Jody, another hunter from what he had gathered from Dean, say as she shoved Castiel in the direction of Dean’s carriage with an wink. Castiel had to fight the urge to give Dean some sort of show of comfort as he settled himself into the confining space of the car – the man had looked nervous at the beginning of the queue, but after half an hour of waiting Dean looked almost ready to vomit. And both hands he was using to clutch onto the safety bar were shaking violently.

“Are you going to be alright, Dean?” Castiel asked eventually, not sure if he expected an answer. Dean had been managing fewer words the closer they’d come to the ride.

“No, Cas, I’m going to _die,_ ” Dean hissed, still staring straight ahead.

“I agree, it does not seem all that safe for a recreational activity,” Cas observed, looking up at the tracks they were about to begin travelling on.

Dean’s hands gripped a little harder onto the safety bar. “ _Not. Fucking. Helping._ ”

They were quiet for a moment as the ride employees came round to put down an extra bar for their safety and make sure that it was correctly in place. Castiel frowned when they left. “It’s strange, that they call them safety bars when the existence of them would indicate that-”

“Cas, I swear to God, if you don’t fucking shut the hell up already-”

But Dean wasn’t able to finish his threat, because just then the ride started moving with an unpleasant little jolt. Castiel wondered briefly if there might be some validity in Dean’s fears. Was he risking his entire campaign just to make a small boy happy? Just to, if he was honest with himself, be able to share a very small space with an attractive man?

It made an interesting cacophony, Castiel mused as they began a steady climb up to the top, Sam and Jody’s light-hearted cheering, Jo and Ash’s low moans in front of them as they lifted their arms up in the air, and Dean, next to him, keeping up a steady mantra of, “Gonna die. Gonna die. Never gonna get off this fucking death trap. Gonna die.” Then something in his state of trauma something seemed to snap, and when they were almost half way up he looked at Castiel with frenzy in his eyes.

“Distract me!” he ordered. “Get me out of this!”

And Castiel wasn’t all that sure what to do – how were you supposed to force someone in distress to relax? He’d learnt to give Hannah hugs - that was something which could usually calm her. Dean though… Dean usually drank to feel more relaxed, from what Castiel had seen of him. And he’d been very relaxed the other night, when he had ordered Castiel to close his eyes…

Castiel did what he wanted to do, but he also did the only thing he thought might succeed in helping his… friend, return to himself. And when Castiel pressed his lips against Dean’s, messily, wobbly, in front of his family, Dean let it happen. He gripped on to Castiel’s arm like it was some kind of lifeline, and Castiel felt his tongue rubbing over his teeth…

But then the train had reach the top, and it curved so quickly and violently that Castiel almost bit down on it before they pulled themselves apart. Dean still looked frightened, but he looked embarrassed almost in equal measure, as Jody and Sam behind them fell conspicuously quiet. But Castiel did not have time to wonder if he’d done something wrong or inappropriate – not now the air had all been forced out of his lungs – now, he thought with a smile as he listened to Dean’s screams, now he was _flying._

When the ride stopped it was… it was saddening, because it had been _too short_ , over far too quickly. But when Castiel turned to look at Dean, his hair a mess, and his face white and frozen in one position, he couldn’t help but laugh. Strange, but he couldn’t remember ever laughing, really laughing, before this. It had always seemed such a human thing to be doing. But something about the expression of sheer terror on Dean’s face brought out the humanity in him.

“Never… Never again,” Dean was muttering to himself. Castiel turned to look behind them then – he wanted to tell Sam that he had been right, that it _had_ felt flying, but Sam did not look ready to listen, but not in the same way that his older brother did – no, Sam was clearly in pain, with tears starting to stream down his normally dimpled cheeks as he yelped, sounding more like an animal than a small boy and pressed his hands tightly against his head.

At the sound of his brother’s pain, Dean turned around. “Sammy, what is it? You can’t have done worse than me, right, I thought you were being the brave one round here?”

The safety bar’s had released them now, and Jody was able to gather Sam into her arms and stroke his hair, soothingly. “What’s wrong, Sam? I thought you were enjoying the ride – wasn’t it fun?”

Castiel risked a glance over at Dean, whose jaw had hardened at the sight of Sam’s continued distress.

“It _hurts_ ,” Sam managed eventually, sounding shocked as he slowly released his head from his hands.

“It hurts, Sam, what hurts? What did you do?”

Sam shook his head, eyes still clamped shut. “No, not me, _her_.” Then he opened his eyes and looked right at his brother. “I saw Mom, and she’s in pain.”

“You saw Mom?” Dean looked around them, glancing out at the rest of the park. “Where, Sammy, where?”

But before Sam was able to say anything, the ride employee came back to look down at them sternly. “You have to get off the ride now.”

“What’s up with the little man?” Ash asked Castiel as they followed Dean and Jody, who seemed determined to run Sam back to the rest of the group.

“I’m not sure. He claims he saw his Mother.”

Jo sighed heavily. “He misses her a whole lot. It’s not right, her being away so long from him. Poor kid.”

 _Yes_ , Cas thought in agreement, _and poor Dean._

“Not actually her, Dean,” Sam was explaining, sounding tired when they caught up with them and found him seated on a bench next to Bobby. Hannah was on his other side, and looking like she too might have been crying. Castiel made a mental note to ask who it was that had upset her, and to prevent them from ever doing it again.

“…I mean – it was, but I couldn’t see her. I _felt_ her, Dean – and she’s in trouble, she’s hurting – we have to go and help her!”

Bobby frowned down at him. “Whoah, whoah, whoah, kid, what’s this about _feeling_ your Mom out – did you pretend she was there for a minute?”

Sam seemed to have recovered himself fully - the snarl he treated Bobby with for the question seemed evidence of that. “No I didn’t _pretend_ I saw her – I saw her, felt her for a minute up there, I know I did. I think maybe the spell didn’t not work the other day,” he continued, nodding earnestly at Dean, “I think it just worked _different._ But now we know she’s alive – at least right now – but we _have_ to go and-”

“Ok, slow down there,” Bobby urged Sam as he glared up at Dean. “Back up to the part about a spell.”

Sam’s face crumpled again. “I’m… I’m sorry Bobby. But I tried to do a location spell, but it didn’t work – and nobody got hurt! Just the bedcovers, I _promise._ ”

“A _location spell_. And you were trying this on your own, were you?” Ellen asked sternly, but resignedly. “This wouldn’t be around the night Joanna Beth was looking after you, now would it?”

“Like he said,” Dean put in, “Nobody got hurt.”

“That doesn’t mean that they _couldn’t_ have! I thought you had more sense than to let him play with an open flame-” But before Ellen was able to complete her tirade against her daughter, or Dean, or both of them, for their failure to watch Sam correctly – and Castiel was feeling grateful that she was not aware he had also been present that night – Bobby spoke up quietly, and everyone listened.

“That’s not how location spells work, least not the kind I think you’re meaning. Fire on a map, right kid?”

Sam nodded, slowly, as though worried he might offend someone by moving too quickly.

“Location spells don’t backfire onto the user like that. Least not on humans.”

And there was something in the look Bobby was giving Dean – it felt pointed, and Ellen was gasping…

“Bobby, can we talk?” Dean asked, suddenly sounding as gruff as the older man. And almost... aggressive, with that distinct tone of frightened energy that Castiel had been listening to before their rollercoaster ride.

“Perhaps we should leave, and return to this meeting at another time,” Hannah suggested quietly to Castiel. After unsuccessfully attempting to draw Dean’s eye, Castiel nodded.

“Uh, seeya Cas,” Ash muttered under his breath as they started to walk away from the group. Then Anna – Anael – whoever she might now be, seemed to understand that they were leaving, and ran after them. “Wait,” she called.

“I think you’ve said enough already, sister,” Hannah told her when they stopped.

“I know, I’m sorry. I just wanted to let Castiel know myself that I have remembered much from my time in Heaven now,” she said, turning her wide, earnest eyes to meet his. “And that from what I remember, what you have done since I left… I would have been very surprised. But I also think I would have been proud of you.”

Castiel almost smiled, but it felt as though he’d lost the energy to give a whole one, now. People could be exhausting. “I would appreciate if we could find some time to talk soon. The three of us. If your chaperones would allow that, there may be much we could help each other remember.”

And then Anna, perhaps because she really was human and their emotions did not tire her so greatly, really did smile before she walked back to the people who had made it their mission to protect her. “I would like that,” she said.


	10. Witnesses

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean repressed the smug urge to grin at the sight of this angel commander looking like he would have turned Dean into goo just for interrupting him again, if only he was still able.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... apparently I am that meme going around of the author coming back over a year later?
> 
> Um... *coughs loudly*
> 
> I do have more written down still to get typed up, and I did always know vaguely where this was going so I will EVENTUALLY be getting this finished, and hopefully pretty quickly but I now know better of making promises because I'm apparently super bad at following through on them.
> 
> For anyone coming back to this (YOU'RE AMAZING JUST FOR STARTERS HERE) who can't be bothered rereading the whole thing to remember what's going on, I sympathise, and compiled a vague but hopefully helpful summary:
> 
> Everything the same universe, except more people live in the same place, and their ages and details like that have been changed around - e.g. Sam is only seven, while Dean's in his early 20s. Dean's now in the position of main caregiver for Sam, because Mary never came home from a hunt. John died when Sam was six months old, not Mary, and she'd had to tell him about hunting when Dean was small, which he'd taken to enthusiastically. After he died, she eventually got together with Ellen, who worries that Dean shouldn't have dropped out of college to look after Sam when she would have been happy to.
> 
> Cas is a heavenly revolutionary fighting against Naomi's brainwashing and the apocalyptic plans, Raphael killed him, and God raised him, making him interesting. He's hiding out on Earth with Hannah, who's vessel is only a child, to basically try and avoid assassination while he tries to figure out a what next. Both of them gave up their graces to be able to hide and integrate, so they're learning about humanity the hard way.
> 
> Anna is staying with Ellen and Jo and Ash, she now knows she's a fallen angel, and she heard the angels mention Mary's name on the radio so Dean's super interested in her.
> 
> Sam kickstarted some visions for himself early by trying to use a locator spell to find his Mom, which is freaking Dean out.
> 
> So... yeah, relaunch wooooow

“So you’re just gonna be gone for tonight, right?” Sam asked as Dean rounded the car into Aunt Ellen’s driveway.

“Yup,” Dean told him, not looking at him. He’d been doing a lot of that lately, not looking at Sam – ever since Sam had had the vision.

It was probably just one more reason not to tell him about the new one

“We’ll probably get back before dinner tomorrow, alright? And I’ll give you a call tonight, ok?” Dean said as he stopped the car.

“Ok. So this… this hasn’t got anything to do with Mom, has it?”

Dean sighed, and rolled his eyes. “No. I mean, hell, I wish it did. But we’re off trying to stop some…seal thing breaking. Demons. Bad guys. Don’t worry though Sammy, we’ll get ‘em.”

“Just… don’t let them get you, right?”

Dean looked at him at last, almost as though he was surprised that Sam was still there and speaking to him. “Course – I’ve got an angel looking out for me. Probably not good as you having Ellen at your back tonight, but it should work out ok.”

“Sure you won’t just get distracted from all the kissing you guys are gonna do?”

Dean whacked at his ear. “Shut your little piehole. We’re going to _work._ ”

“Uh-huh.” Sam grinned. “There is no way you're gonna go away just to work.”

“ _Yes. We are._ Now get out of the car already.”

“I’m going, I’m going…” Sam muttered, but didn’t move.

Dean sighed dramatically. “What now?”

“Dean…” Sam wanted to tell him about the vision, but he also didn’t, for a whole lot of reasons. It sounded ridiculous for one thing, Dean might think he was crazy and start stressing out for another. And because saying it would make it what he’d seen seem like it really could happen – that his Mom really was going to try to kill Dean…

Thinking of it again, it really did sound stupid.

But it had felt so _real_ in his vision…

Dean softened his voice a little. “You ok, kid?”

“Yeah. Yeah I am.”

*

Dean wondered for a moment exactly why he was attempting to look cool for this guy who was still learning what the word cool was supposed to _mean_ as Dean continued to lean out of the open car window, thrumming his fingers against the door and nodding his head only lightly along to the beat of the music so that his sunglasses didn’t slip down his nose.

 _Because you_ like _him,_ a voice that sounded suspiciously like Sam’s supplied him with. And sure, maybe he did. The guy’s meatsuit or vessel or whatever the fuck it had been before it had turned into _him_ was attractive, and he was kind of a badass from the sounds of things. And angel, sure, but he didn’t kiss like one, or, at least not how Dean might have ever imagined they would.

But like he’d told Sam, this wasn’t some romantic weekend getaway. This was work.

Right. What were they doing again?

Dean hadn’t needed telling. He’d just got himself ready because hey, saving the world – something about Biblical seals, road trip away from home – he was always game for that.

 _Road trip away from Sam,_ he let himself think before he squashed the thought. He wanted to stay with his brother, of course he did.

But…

Well, what with the visions and the literal playing around with fire he’d been trying lately Dean wasn’t able to look at him without feeling like he was about to be hit by an anxiety attack with the force of a freight train.

If Dean couldn’t _see_ his brother then he could go on pretending that there was nothing wrong with him.

“Dean? Dean, the CD’s repeating.”

Dean blinked, and lost enough concentration to let his sunglasses actually slip down his nose a little.  “Right, uh, what d’you want on next?” he asked, before he realised what he was saying. Driver picks the music. That had always been Dad’s rule in Dad’s car and no one yet had ever been important enough to break it for.

Castiel regarded the tapes in front of him with grave concentration. “I like the cover of this one.”

Dean glanced over at the cover he was holding and winced. “Christ, that’s one of Sammy’s man, pick something cooler.”

His Mom had made it up after listening to which ones Sam liked singing along to on the radio.

“But you said I had the choice. And the bright colours of this is aesthetically pleasing and promises something “upbeat” for road travel.”

“Yeah, but it’s just a shitty pop mix and… fine,” Dean groaned, ramming the tape into the machine and allowing a tween boyband song, that Dean would never admit to knowing the words to, to start playing. As Cas started nodding his head along to it Dean side-eyed him.

“You happy now?”

Cas shrugged. “I was right. It is cheerful.”

But Dean swore he could see the angel doing that almost-smile thing, and he wondered how much he was being wound up. So he huffed and watched the road again.

As a kid, he’d lived for the road trips that his parents, which most often meant his Dad, would decide he was ready for. It was how he’d learnt to drive at first, with nothing but a long stretch of highway in front of him, with those rare moments when his Dad would pat him on the shoulder and let him know he was proud.

Well. He wouldn’t always _say_ it exactly, but Dean would know, and with the sun shining down on them on the road that was taking them away for a heroic adventure, he’d felt taller than he’d ever felt since.

But then, he’d always known, then, that they’d definitely be driving back home again. After Sammy was born, his Mom had stayed home more and more often, and his Dad had started pushing his luck more on how long they could plan to be away. Which made them fight whenever they did get home, and it made Dean dread coming home. But even when his Mom begged him not to go, to focus on his homework for once instead of being another kid soldier like she’d grown up being, he’d still gotten back in the car.

“So this shouldn’t be difficult,” Castiel was saying. “The energy which formed the last attack should still be fresh if we reach the site within the next few days.”

“Yeah, well, we’re making good time,” Dean said gruffly.

“Dean, this shouldn’t be difficult namely because we probably both fit the criteria. But… maybe too well.”

“Ok, so ‘the Rising of the Witnesses’. Mostly hunters, since someone downstairs seems to have major beef, all dying because these seals you’re supposed to be helping stop break on Team Anti-Apocalypse are breaking anyway. And this is one. That me following so far here?”

“Well -”

“And these seals are basically like latches on the Devil’s cage. We can’t stop this one being bust but we can gank the witness things before they get round to killing anyone else, right?”

“Yes, and -”

“- while using ourselves as bait and actually summoning the sons of bitches if we can’t find ‘em.”

Cas narrowed his eyes, clearly irritated, but also plastering on the face that Dean had seen him use for whenever the former angel was trying to broach emotional topics.

“It isn’t as simple as having something to ‘gank’. These are souls -”

“Ghosts, yeah, I remember.”

Dean repressed the smug urge to grin at the sight of this angel commander looking like he would have turned Dean into goo just for interrupting him again, if only he was still able. “Yes, spirits. But they’re not the normal kind of vengeful spirit you might have encountered before. They’re not here of their own volition – they’ve been twisted, and brought back with an inflamed vendetta against those they intend to torment. Dean, I need you to think, so you might be able to prepare yourself – is there anyone dead who might have reason to hold their death against you? A hunt that went badly?”

“Like, did I ever shoot a victim by mistake? No, I never even really hunted enough for that.”

But Dean could feel his skin already crawling. Those killed who might want to blame you for it? Wouldn’t need a whole lot of ‘soul twisting’ for that…

“It would actually help if you did. As you say, the ideal is to present ourselves as bait to improve the summoning, or maybe supersede the need for it at all. I’ve spent the majority of my existence and angel, and I’m not likely to be very interesting to most human souls.”

“Oh yeah?” Dean asked, staring blankly at the road and suddenly feeling like sneering at his friend.

And friend? Could he even call him that? As Cas – _Castiel –_ kept on reminding him, he was a higher species, and soon he was gonna go flying back to whatever cloud he’d hopped off of and leave Dean on his own.

“I’m sure those angels you killed had really appreciative meatsuits.”

Castiel looked shocked. “That’s not what I -”

“Not what you meant? Right, I’m sure they’re gonna care a whole lot about what you really _intended_ there when you orphaned their children or whatever.”

Cas looked like someone had put itching powder all through the lining of the familiar old coat Dean had given him the other day, when he’d complained about the rain. It was an old trenchcoat that his Mom had bought his Dad, and he’d never worn much, and Dean had hated how easily he could see and his Dad was rarely able to how small things like that had hurt her.

“That was different.”

Dean snorted. “Why, you calling self-defense? Because I still don’t know if that’ll cut it with -”

“No, because I hadn’t met you yet.”

They didn’t say another word for the rest of the drive, as Dean wondered how someone would actually go about twisting a soul. While people like Taylor Swift kept doing their level best to encourage him to shake it off.

*

Jo was researching for a hunt of her own, so when the know on her door sounded, she immediately closed all he open tabs. She knew her Mom was already worried enough over Dean, hunting for the first time that she knew of since Mary’s disappearance, and as much as her Mom always seemed to assume otherwise, Jo never actively _tried_ to increase the woman’s stressload.

“C’min,” she yelled, turning up her music just an inch, so much that she barely heard the softly spoken “hello” coming from behind her.

Jo spun around on her little office chair, relaxing her shoulders as she saw Anna standing there.

Since the redhead had moved in they hadn’t spoken much – despite her teasing of Dean and Ash for being such anti-social freaks, she’d never been much better. People her own age were intimidating, and even more so for their people status being… confusing.

And to cap it off it really didn’t help that Anna was fucking _beautiful_.

Which was never gonna help in either an insecurity kind of way, or in a gay way. Double whammy.

So yeah, they hadn’t talked much yet. Until now, Anna had pretty much kept herself to herself, probably processing grief or angelic memories or a whole bunch of things Jo wasn’t sure she’d be equipped to help with.

“I like this song,” Anna offered with a small smile, pale fingers clinging lightly at Jo’s open door.

Jo shrugged. “Pretty Reckless. Kinda dumb and not exactly heavenly choirs.”

Anna made a face. “Well. From what I’ve started remembering, I think any ‘singing’ if it happened at all was more for, uh, offensive, purposes. It damages the human ear, if we speak in our angelic forms.”

Jo considered this a moment. “That’s pretty fucked up.”

“Mm-hmm. That’s angels for you.”

Jo stared and eventually remembered that her mouth was hanging open a little. “So – I’m sorry, like… what do you _feel_ like? An angel?”

“Well. Human, until the other day. Now I’m starting to remember bits and pieces than billions of years ago.”

Jo gulped and tried to laugh. “Bit different to any human I know anyway.”

Anna smiled, but the effect came of as a little sad. “No. I think I’d forget if I could. It’s… odd, not being one thing or another. I feel grief for my parents, but at the same time I’m so aware that their lives would have always been short in the span of things. I can remember being an angel who became cynical of their existence in heaven as clearly now as I can remember feeling filled with faith when I sat in church.”

Anna looked down at the floor, still smiling oddly, but very prettily, to herself. After a few moments of that, Jo coughed.

“So you, uh, were you looking for something?”

She’d really never claimed to be good with people.

The fallen angel started, almost as if she’d already forgotten that Jo was there. Hell, if she was all wrapped up in some existential thinking on how short and meaningless human life was, maybe she had.

“Oh, of course. You.”

As Jo tried to think through a way of replying to that, Anna shook her head, clearly considering what she actually wanted to say next. “Yes; well – if you could help me with getting out of the house – there’s someone I’d like to visit and I, well -”

“You can’t drive, can you?”

“No.” Anna’s shoulders sagged. “My Mom had started teaching me, but I was useless at it, and I don’t have a license -”

“Hey, hey it’s cool,” Jo cut in, starting to smile. For a moment there Anna had actually sounded like a flustered girl her own age.

“’Course I’ll drive you. And lemme guess, you want me instead of my Mom because…”

Anna looked up guiltily and grinned. “Well, she’d been so kind, but I just wasn’t sure she’d really _approve_ …”

Jo stood up, grinning back. “Yeah, that sounds like my Mom.”

*

Castiel had felt as though alcohol was definitely an acquired taste the first few times he’d had beers with Dean. As time went on, he’d found it was more accurate to say that _some_ alcohol tasted bad, others, as he was learning at the nearest bar to the motel Dean had found them a room in, tasted like _strawberries_ and every other kinds of fruit a person could imagine. Well that a human could imagine anyway. Most other animals probably wouldn’t bother contemplating it, and angels would be able to know about so many other flavours which couldn’t be found on any menu in the world.

But then again angels didn’t really know what something like a strawberry daiquiri would taste like outside the logic of its ingredients, Castiel mused as he stared down at the umbrella in his almost empty glass. They also wouldn’t be able to know what it felt like to order a garish drink and sit alone with it.

It was a strangely awful feeling, and it made Castiel want to order more drinks to follow the one he had, although he wasn’t sure he’d be able to adequately express _why_.

He had a strange suspicion though that if Balthazar were there with him he’d have found the situation deeply amusing.

Dean had claimed to be too tired from driving to join Castiel in his exploration of their surroundings, which was odd considering that he’d never known to Dean to turn down an opportunity for a drink, especially not when he wouldn’t need to be home to look after his brother.

No, Dean was definitely avoiding him. Which was sad because the outing had started with such a lot of promise and Castiel wanted the chance to experience more with the friend he had her while he had the chance –

And the needed to help others from falling victim to the broken seal, and if possible finding the perpetrators responsible for breaking it in the first place. Obviously.

It was of course the seal itself which had put Dean in such a foul mood, Cas was sure of that much. There was something he hadn’t wanted to admit to, something that he suspected might come after him if there plan worked and they became the target, something which tempted him. It was so glaringly obvious that Castiel could almost understand what it was with senses he no longer currently possessed.

(Though, sometimes he wondered if when he retrieved his grace he would ever be able to use his powers in the same way again. He felt as though he would _know_ too much about Dean in this situation, for instance, to be able to clearly discern what was bothering him. And Castiel hadn’t worked out how he felt about that yet.)

But since Dean hadn’t actually noticed any of that, Castiel couldn’t know, and that hurt too. He liked to think that Dean trusted him now, and being shut out of his confidence once again was hurtful.

Maybe he should bring it up. Because Cas was feeling better able, after several drinks, to admit now that their conversation at the car had bothered him.

Fear wasn’t an emotion he was too well familiar with, and he almost wasn’t able to recognise the feeling as he considered the thought of who might arrive for him as a witness. Maybe less fear exactly, and more apprehension. Whatever happened, in this vulnerable form, it was unlikely to be pleasant. Perhaps Hannah had been right, and it was insouciant at best to be risking himself this was.

Ah. That was another very human thing to do – denying fear.

And lying to yourself.

“Another?” The bartender was back, and nodding at the now empty glass with its paper flamingo staw.

Castiel regarded the glass a moment. “No,” he decided.

Time for some truth, then.

*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ok, but jokes about promises aside, I have more written so i GENUINELY should have more up for this in a few days. yeah.


	11. Salt in the Wounds

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean sounded almost unrecognisable with none of his normal bravado or cynicism weighing his words down, and for a moment he sounded more like his brother’s age.

It was dark when he left the bar and walked along the road back to their hotel. He was going up to ask Dean to talk to him, as the other man had already been fairly dedicated in doing for him throughout their short friendship. And if he didn’t want to, well, well then Castiel wasn’t a human child, and it didn’t have to bother him if he didn’t let it. And then perhaps…

A small shiver ran through him as Castiel remember their shared bedroom. It had been expensive for a separate room, so they were keeping in twin beds, side by side.

Which obviously didn’t have to mean anything. Of course.

But Cas wanted… Well, he wasn’t all that sure what it was he really wanted. But when he remembered those few and short kisses they’d shared, he… well, _missed_ that feeling of closeness, of intimacy that hadn’t been like anything else he’d experienced so far as a human. And it was so human, for one other human to choose you in particular in the most blatant manner possible while keeping in the bounds of acceptable social norms.

In fact, Castiel had probably spent more time thinking about what it felt like to kiss Dean than he had about the heavenly campaign he was still hiding from. And that was almost definitely wrong. He knew that.

Well. As an angel, he’d known that. And doubt had been something he’d started to welcome as a revolutionary or whatever it was he’d become, when he’d had other people to talk about, to inspire through the name of it. But alone, it was confusing and too big.

As Castiel made to turn the key in the lock to their room he heard noises from inside and hurried his movements, cursing for the millionth time that week his lack of access to his wings, his strength, his real _being._

“Dean!” he shouted, nervous now as he heard the noise continue.

“Please… I wasn’t trying to -”

Dean sounded almost unrecognisable with none of his normal bravado or cynicism weighing his words down, and for a moment he sounded more like his brother’s age.

As Cas ran in he felt the warm night dramatically drop in temperature and at first it was all he could concentrate on – but then he saw the figure of a man standing with his back to Cas at the foot of Dean’s bed.

As Castiel rushed at the figure, unthinking in his sudden fear, it vanished and he was left able to clearly see his friend sitting up against the wall by his bed like he’d been pressed there – white as a sheet, and with tears still running down his face, with his hands still clinging tightly to the edge of the bedcovers.

“Dean,” Cas said again, running towards his shaking friend, who was quick to brush him away with raised hands when he got too close, too close to hugging him, and those green eyes were suddenly alert again.

“No,” Dean growled. “Let’s just gank these sons-of-bitches already and do what we came here for. Apparently we’re such ripe pickings they want to start the party early on us.”

Cas wanted to press the point that Dean did not look ready to leave his bed, but he knew the hunter was right, and that it would basically it was suicidal waiting on the ghost to return.

“Right,” he said, nodding. “Salt, our equipment…”

“The car,” Dean croaked, before coughing. “It’s all in the car,” he repeated, his voice gruffer as he tossed Cas his car keys but made no move to stand.

Cas eyed him, regretting those brightly coloured drinks.

“I’m _fine,_ ” Dean snapped. “But I won’t stay that way if you don’t go pick up our friggin’ kit.”

Cas nodded with some reluctance and turned to run back the way he’d come. The ritual to finish banishing of the witnesses should be fairly simple for them – they were hardly the most cataclysmic of possible scenarios which could follow the fallout of more seal breakages.

He’d never given much thought to who it was involved in actually raising them, but now, as a human and cut off from heavenly thought, he wasn’t sure he knew why.

But he couldn’t even spend time thinking on the strategic defence or Biblical significance of what was now going on around him – all that he could currently let matter to him was that Dean was in danger, and by being the one to suggest this ‘hunt’ to him, Castiel had put him in that danger. So suddenly he no longer needed to worry about any fear he might have had for himself when he rushed back up to the room, to find Dean with his finger on the trigger of a gun Castiel knew was filled with salt rounds, his eyes darting round the room, wary as a threatened cat.

“No resurface yet,” he muttered.

Cas threw him the pack of rock salt and Dean began to encircle himself in it.

“Step into my office,” he said, without really smiling, and when Cas didn’t immediately move, he continued. “Ok, so the plan is you say this incantation and they go poof – danger’s over for us and everyone else.”

“Yes,” Cas assured him as he made to join him in the newly formed salt circle.

“And that’ll put the ghosts to rest? They’ll get to Heaven or whatever?”

Castiel hadn’t really given any thought to that either.

“I imagine souls will return to wherever it was they were dragged from but I’m not – I can’t be sure.”

“Ok, be more sure,” Dean ordered, his eyes narrowed. But before Cas was able to formulate a response he felt his feet dragged out from and under him and as he heard Dean call out his name he only just managed to stop himself falling on his knees or face by throwing his hands out in front of him just in time.

“Castiel doesn’t think all that much about what happens to human souls,” said a voice Cas recognised with a sickening crunch as he was rolled over onto his back. “I should know,” said the figure that was all too familiar to Cas – because it was the same one he was wearing.

“Jimmy,” Castiel started. “I had no idea when I took you as a vessel that Raphael would -”

There was a short bark of cynical laughter from the spirit, which raised its arms in an exaggerated shrug. “What, leave my wife bankcrupt and half-mad? My daughter all but an orphan?”

With every word he spoke the soul that had been Jimmy Novak pressed down a little harder on Castiel’s wrist with his foot, and it hurt as much as a real one would.

“My body strewn in pieces across a room in a state I’d never been to before when you dragged me off on your jolly one-body heavenly roadtrip? Is that what you were going to say?”

There was the sound of a gunshot, and Jimmy’s form dissipated in the air.

“Get in here,” Dean told him gruffly, as he hauled Cas back to his feet. “That the meatsuit then?”

“My vessel.”

“Huh. Well, for some reason you’re better looking. And uh – it’s ain’t really them, right?”

Suddenly now that Cas stood next to him in the salt circle Dean’s eyes were wide and pleading, and Cas realised that Dean needed to hear the right answer to his question so much more than he ever could. He needed comfort from one of those euphemistic half-lies humans seemed to have such a now understandable dependence on.

Cas made a decision.

“No,” he said, not elaborating any further, and not needing to in order to see that reward of Dean’s shoulders sagging in obvious relief.

“Yeah, man. Whatever’s playing with us is gonna get it,” he muttered. “You wanna get started on that incantation soon as they turn up again?”

“Uh, of course,” Cas said, his human brain fumbling for the first word of the Latin.

Then he felt the room grow even colder, and heard a low voice behind him say, “bet you never even grieved right, didja boy?”

Cas made to turn, but felt a hand on his shoulder warning him against it. “Start talking,” Dean said, a slight tremble in his voice.

“No, no grieving for this monster, this _murderer_ , probably still tainted. No, he went to _college_ , didn’t even keep hunting to find out what got me, not really. No, you let your Mom do all that work for you, clearing up your mess.”

Trying to tune out the spirit, and Dean’s shaking body beside him, Cas started in on the incantation.

“-And now hasn’t even poked his head out the door to see where she went. No, you couldn’t just stop with killing me, you let my wife die, after you went and poisoned the only _real_ son I ever had. Mary and me were good people, we never deserved demonspawn for kids. Hell, maybe she just couldn’t stand the sight of the two of you anymore and just ran off. I wouldn’t blame her.”

Cas reached out behind his back to grip Dean’s sweaty hand in his own as he raised his voice slightly, but the man who he could only assume to be John Winchester now stood in front of him, smiling toothily. “This _friend_ of yours is plucky. But remember, I know this game, Dean-o.”

Dean pulled his hand away from Cas and blew a salt round through the image of his father’s face, but moments later, the ghost was across the room, and pushing a chair towards them, breaking the salt line.”

“Finish it,” Dean yelled, as the ghost of his father swooped down on him and pushed him into the floor.

Castiel kept chanting, knowing he had only a few lines left when he felt and icy grip on the back of his neck.

“Cas – is that what you go by now? Huh. You ever look in the mirror and think about who’s face is really looking back at you?”

Spluttering for breath, Cas kept on chanting, unable to keep his eyes from staring at where Dean was still writhing on the floor, wearing the leather jacket Cas knew to be his father’s.

“You said you needed me for something great,” Jimmy went on, voice breaking slightly. “Something brought you back, but it never bothered about me. I wasn’t needed for this great plan of yours. Which so far you’ve done _nothing_ about starting apart from playing house with your fake kid and pining after college drop-outs.”

Those cold fingers kept on relentlessly squeezing even as Cas scrabbled at them, but he was still able to get out that last word before the spirits cried out in rage and dissipated, and he was able to fall to the ground, still panting.

“Dean,” he said hoarsely, as soon as he was able, as he rubbed at his abused neck. “Dean, are you alright?”

Dean was silent for a moment, still staring at the place where his father has been, those green eyes wide and almost glazed.

“Sure,” he said eventually. “Never been fucking better.”

*


	12. Doors Opening

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I need some air,” Dean said as he saw Cas starting to sit down.
> 
> Air, maybe that would help him remember how to breathe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So.... between a lot of sign-up deadlines and real life stuff a lot of fics have been still kept pretty on hold - thanks so much to anyone still waiting this one out! I swear it is going somewhere...

They didn’t speak as they started to clear the motel room. Cas patted Dean on the shoulder, giving him that unknowably ancient puppy-dog eyes look, but Dean avoided his gaze. He didn’t want to look and see the pity that had shone in the eyes of everyone after his father’s ‘accident’. When he’d wanted to scream at them all for giving him sympathy and not disgust and a wide berth.

Though… he _had_ seen something of that disgust coming from the people who knew what had really happened, even in his Mom at times in that first year, and though he hadn’t liked that either he’d accepted it.  He was the one who’d killed his own father, he deserved so much worse…

“I need some air,” Dean said as he saw Cas starting to sit down.

Air, maybe that would help him remember how to breathe.

“Dean?”

Dean whipped round to catch the hand about to latch on his shoulder. “ _Don’t_.”

“Dean,” Cas started again, allowing Dean to keep clutching his wrist, “I think you’re starting to hyperventilate.”

Dean inhaled deeply and cocked an eyebrow, trying to summon up some memory of whatever part he was trying to play. “And now?”

“Not now, no.”

They looked at each other for a few minutes, standing out on the motel balcony and the less than romantic view of the car park it looked out and down on, as Cas gradually allowed Cas’s wrist to fall from his grip.

“Dean – we did well today,” Cas told him slowly. “We can’t unbreak a seal, but we did stop the effects of it hurting anyone else.”

Dean choked on a laugh and snatched back his hand before turning to move back indoors.

“Yeah. Doesn’t make our ‘victims’ any less dead though, does it? Or me any less -” Dean clenched up his jaw and his fists as he looked around the room.

“I’m going for a drink,” he announced, spinning round only to find Castiel barring his way back to the door.

“Dean, alcohol doesn’t solve everything.”

“Oh yeah? Well for once I have no little brother to be watching, my Mom’s probably dead and my Dad just became even more definitely dead. I really can’t think of a better time to be drinking, so if you’ll excuse me -”

Castiel still didn’t move. “I’ll go with you.”

“Well, no offence, but -”

“You’re worrying me, Dean, I don’t want you out there on your own.”

Dean took a step closer towards him. “Oh, you can _get_ worried, can you, angel? About something _not_ to do with the fascinating fucking cosmic fabric of the fucking universe. Can you? Because that’s news to me, buddy…”

Suddenly Cas was pulling Dean towards him by his waist and pressing his own lips up towards him, and Dean couldn’t remember deciding to kiss him but he was _right there_ and so was the door to press him against, and his blood felt like it was pumping completely to his brain, his wandering hands –

“Stay,” Cas said, breaking away from the kiss, and staring at Dean in a way that left him with no doubt that he was hearing an order. In the end Dean didn’t answer, only pressed his lips back towards Cas and tried not to think.

*

“Should we try knocking again?” Jo suggested as she leant against the doorframe. They’d been standing there for maybe ten minutes, trying to announce themselves, and Jo could see that the former angel beside her was getting tired and irritated. Hell, she’d be the same if she wasn’t finding this so amusing.

Anna’s brows furrowed again as Jo tried to keep herself from smiling.

“Hannah,” she shouted, “I just want to talk to you.”

“And why do you want to do that when Castiel is not here?” a shrewd little voice asked through the mailbox.

“Because you’re the one trying not to talk to me.”

Hannah opened the door by maybe an inch. “I don’t want to ask you in,” she announced bluntly.

“We can talk out here if that would be easier on you,” Anna said quickly. “I just want to talk.”

The door opened a little wider. “What about?” that shrewd, suspicious child’s voice asked them.

Jo found the whole thing eerie, even having to look at the girl, or listen to that voice. She could just about work her head around angels themselves – they were basically megapowered demons that were more religious and less human. But involving children was, well… too much. She always hated having to deal with child ghosts, though she didn’t say that out loud much. Ash wouldn’t listen properly, Dean’d make fun of her and her mother would use it as a reason she shouldn’t be hunting in the first place.

Hannah just looked so _normal_. To think that there could be a screaming or crying or brainwashed kid in there was jarring to say the least, and it made Jo want to be able to _do_ something. But Dean had vouched for this whole… situation, and the last thing she wanted to do right now was upset Anna when she was finally getting close to her own breakthrough…

“About…” Anna’s shoulders sagged. “About angels. About humans. About this war.”

“This war you removed yourself from before it started, out of cowardice.”

Jo watched Anna’s face carefully. The redhead kept her face very still, very careful.

“Yes,” she said simply. “Castiel, he found out what he knew and he stood and fought, gathered a following. I – I ran.”

The door opened a little further. “You could have told me,” Hannah said, and for a moment Jo had to fight to remember that this was anything other than a hurt child still feeling abandoned and probably still needing a hug. “We were your garrison, your troops. We would have followed you almost anywhere.”

Anna shook her head. “But it wasn’t my first time. And no one had believed me before.” She gave a sort of sad half-smile, and it looked as though she might be fighting off tears. “I guess I just don’t have Castiel’s charisma.”

*

“Do you want to talk about it then?”

“Do you?”

Cas sighed softly beside Dean on the bed. He couldn’t remember exactly how they’d ended up there, only that there’d been a lot of kissing, lot of pushing and pulling, and now they were lying on the bed next to each other – still fully clothed, but as exhausted as if they had just gone several rounds.

“I’ve heard it helps humans to be able to talk through the emotions they have to deal with.”

“Where’d you hear that? You been watching too much daytime TV? Checked out a bit of Dr Phil?”

There was a long pause. “Yes.”

Despite himself, Dean started to laugh. The angel he had a crush on a mile wide was trying to give him TV therapy. Awesome.

“What happened with your father, Dean?”

Dean swallowed and continued to refuse to look at Cas, even as he allowed the fallen angel to take his hand.

“I killed him. He wasn’t lying about that part.” Cas squeezed a little tighter on Dean’s hand and didn’t let go as Dean let out a long slow sigh. When he spoke again he found his voice hoarse and cracking.

“I was a teenager. Sam was just a baby. And I was mad at my parents because they wouldn’t quit fighting – Dad kept taking me on hunts and Mom kept not liking it. Her own childhood had been like that, and she’d never wanted that life for us. I didn’t mind, but I didn’t like seeing her upset… So I was angry, and that’s… well that turned out to be important.”

“Demons find it easier to possess unhappy people. That doesn’t mean anything was your fault for having feelings, Dean.”

Dean swallowed again. “Yeah, well. Demon got in. Parents always had creatures mad at them over something to follow them home, but this was different. This wasn’t really even personal… it was just another step in the _plan._ ”

Dean felt sick even talking about it, because he could remember what it had meant to feel that way about his family, like all they were was pawns to be able to move around a board. “This guy had yellow eyes.”

He felt like Cas went somehow quieter at that, though he might have imagined it.

“He was there for Sam. He wanted to… _change_ him. Feed him demon blood – _my_ blood.”

Dean’s throat went dry. “Dad was just in the way. Then I – he would have burnt the house down but Mom was there. And she’s, y’know, awesome, so she managed to trap it, exorcise it. She’d saved us. But she couldn’t look at me normal for a week though, and I now she’s spent Sammy’s whole life looking over his shoulder. And now there’s this whole visions bullshit and -”

“Dean, none of this is your fault.”

“Yeah, well, doesn’t feel that way.”

“Dean, I want -” Cas stopped himself. “I don’t think you deserve to feel this way. I probably should, but I’d be lying if I really did, as well as I should. But then I’m not exactly sure I have a soul to really feel it with, so…”

Dean looked at him and waited, but it seemed that the former angel was again done about touching on his own issues.

“I’m sure your father wouldn’t have said or thought any of those things about you, Dean. He was a hunter - he knew what demons could do to people.” Cas paused a moment. “I’m not sure if Jimmy wouldn’t have said the same about me.”

Dean unconsciously moved in a little closer to Cas, and the warmth of him was comforting. “He was right – I hadn’t considered the consequences to him or his family. He was a tool it would be necessary for me to acquire to continue my fight so I…”

 “Acquired him,” Dean finished, and Cas nodded.

“You were right, I may have required permission but I gave little more thought to my ‘meatsuit’ than a demon would.” Dean wordlessly squeezed down on his hand. 

“Hey. Guess we really are both a couple of screw ups then, huh?”

Cas said nothing, but he gave a little twitch of his lips that might have been intended as a smile.

“You ever miss your wings or harp or whatever?”

“I never had a harp.”

“You know what I mean. The whole soldier of God gig. You’re stuck on earth now.”

Cas folded his arms really around his chest. “I miss elements of it. I miss my wings. My true form – I miss it so bad that some days it physically aches. Especially… especially when I dream about them and then I wake up and I feel… less. Everywhere I feel less.”

Dean wanted to say something comforting but he felt a little as though all his useful emotions had been burnt out of him.

“…But the dreams themselves… I’d never dreamed before. I’d never had to _sleep_ before – never had to eat, or drink…” Almost shyly Cas dropped his arms and looked over at Dean. “I’d never gotten to kiss anyone before, I’d never understood the urge behind it even.”

Dean blinked. “Hang on Drew Barrymore, really? _Never_ , never?”

“I never exactly had the occasion or the inclination,” Cas shrugged, looking a little uncomfortable. “I didn’t have that for a lot of things. I never expected to enjoy the taste of food. And now I can’t believe if I go back will I lose that? Or have I changed in ways that can’t be… unchanged.”

Dean nodded slowly and shifted a little closer.

“So if you’d never kissed anyone before me…” he asked, placing a hand down on the former angel’s thigh as he turned himself around to fully take in Castiel’s expression which seemed to be frozen somewhere between terror and curiosity.

“Then you’ve never done any other… things, either, have you.”

Cas swallowed. “No.”

“Would you like to try some?”

“What sort of _things_?”

Dean licked his lips. God, maybe he wasn’t smooth enough to pull this off… but Cas didn’t seem to need smooth, and they were both hurting and tired of talking. Or, Dean certainly was.

“Well usually we still start with a kiss,” Dean said, realising he spoke how low he was uncoscniouslt pitching his voice as he leaned in towards Cas and pressed their lips together, before slowly scraping one hand softly around the back of the former angel’s head, burying his fingers in his dark hair. At Castiel’s soft noise at the movement which came very close to a moan Dean moved his other hand to stroke up the other man’s thigh, gentle over the denim. As he pulled his lips away he kept his eyes fixed on Cas’s He wondered if that bright shade of blue had been his vessel’s before that possession.

“Have you tried this then?” he asked, stroking a little closer to the former angel’s closer to the former angel’s crotch.

“No,” Cas croaked before Dean pulled his pliant head forward for another kiss, this time opening his mouth, and encouraging with his tongue, his lips for Castiel to do the same, and willingly, wordlessly, Cas understood.

“Is this ok?” Dean asked, pulling back only slightly this time to nuzzle his face into Cas’s ear as the other breathed heavily.

“It’s more than ok,” Cas said eventually, to Dean’s relief, and the hunter pulled away and smiled briefly.

“Ok.” And then he kissed him again, pressing his hand down a little harder on the former angel’s crotch.

*


End file.
